


Frostbitten

by Modvinnie



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: All The Tropes, F/M, Kristanna, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, cabin porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-11-28 20:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11425653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modvinnie/pseuds/Modvinnie
Summary: AU. Tough and smart, Anna is the lead of a team of forest rangers, working hard in the mountains every day to rescue strangers. During a rescue, a sudden storm blows in, and she finds herself stranded and with limited supplies. That is, until her teammate and second-in-command Kristoff shows up and offers her a safe place to ride out the storm.AKA, pure ridiculous fantasy cabin porn fluff. Anna's POV. Slow burn, not explicit but rated M. Anna also has a potty mouth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, um...Christmas in July, anyone? I wrote this a long time ago and only came across it while cleaning up my archives, and decided, oh, what the hell, I'll post it. I know the Frozen fandom has died down a bit in the past few years, so maybe you'll forgive my utter ridiculousness and enjoy a new fic? Pretty please?
> 
> This fic is 100% sassy kick-ass Anna and sexy mountain man Kristoff. I make no apologies for the cliche cabin fantasy. We've all had it.

**Prologue**

_The buttery leather of the couch squeaked beneath me as I adjusted my position, curling a foot under myself. I grasped the mug of tea more tightly between my hands, thankful for its warmth, and raised it toward my face, inhaling the spicy-sweet scent of cinnamon._

_Outside, the snow kept falling. Fluffy white flakes piled on the porch railing, now at least six inches thick. The view from the couch was beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling windows ran up the walls on either side of the fireplace, providing a view of both the roaring fire and the gentle snowfall. I could see miles of pines, their boughs laden with snow._

_I never wanted to leave, though I shouldn’t have been here in the first place. Ironically, the very scenery I was admiring is what got me into this situation, and was also what was preventing me from getting out._  

# # #

**Chapter 1**

“Son of a bitch.”

The sky above me was quickly turning dark. I had just peaked over the mountain pass when I saw the first snowflake. I radioed to my team on the ground but couldn’t be sure that my message even got out – I only received static in response. Within minutes, the snow had started falling and was so thick that I couldn’t see the road in front of me. Off-road flood lights and tires weren’t going to save me if I ran my Jeep off the side of the mountain.

This wasn’t good. I was trapped by the sudden storm and my Jeep’s supplies weren’t well-stocked. Rookie mistake on my part; I hadn’t taken the time to resupply after my last trip into the mountains. I had been back to the base less than 20 minutes before another call came in: a couple of lost hikers with a kid. It wasn’t supposed to storm and I thought I’d be fine, which was dangerous, stupid, and went against everything my experience taught me. I found the family and got them back to their hotel, which incidentally was in the complete opposite direction of where I needed to go to get back to base.

I pulled over and prepared to settle in for the night. It wouldn’t be the first time I spent the night in the Jeep; I could make it through the storm safely by staying out of the elements. At least, I thought that was a solid plan, until I reached into the back and realized that I gave my last thermal blanket away to the family of hikers, and that they had helped themselves to my water supply as well.

Just before the gravity of my situation fully set in, I heard the faint whir of a snowmobile. I straightened in the driver’s seat and slid my rifle across my lap. I was a forest ranger, part of search and rescue, the leader of the team you call when things really go to shit in the mountains...but I was still a woman. And I had run across my fair share of hillbillies in these woods, the kind of guys who lived off the grid and would be delighted to lock you up in their basement. I never went into the mountains unarmed.

A sudden hard knock at the window scared the absolute shit out of me. I hadn’t even seen him approach. He was a bear of a man, covered completely in white and almost invisible. I aimed my gun at the window and took a deep breath to steady myself.

“Anna! Anna, is that you?!” A hand came up, brushing at the snow that had already accumulated on the Jeep. I recognized the embroidered leather mittens and muffled voice.

“Kristoff, thank fucking God,” I muttered. I lowered my weapon, pointing it away, before knocking three times on the window. My teammate took a step back, understanding my meaning.

I wrapped my scarf around my face and made sure that my gloves were secure before I pushed my door open. Muffled silence greeted me, the way it only sounds when the snow is coming down hard, blanketing the world around it in cotton.

“What are you doing out here?” I yelled. His hand came out in front of him; I grabbed on. He yanked me toward his snowmobile, fighting through the storm enough for both of us.

“Lost family of hikers; got the call and was already in the mountains. I heard your message on the CB before all communication cut out,” he shouted in my direction.

“Family of three, 6 year old kid?” I asked.

“Yes. Did you find them?”

“Yep, I got them back to their hotel before the storm hit, though it shouldn’t be over them anyways.”

“Good work, Anna,” he squeezed my hand tight. The message wasn’t patronizing, but praising. I appreciated that. “Now get on. Leave your car. You’ll drive it off the mountain in this weather.” He situated himself on the snowmobile and handed me a spare helmet. “It’s only getting worse. Come on.”

I secured my gun to the rack on the back, put the helmet on, and then climbed on behind Kristoff. I wrapped my arms around his waist and thumped his chest three times, letting him know I was ready to go. He revved the vehicle and turned us around, taking us down over the side of the mountain on a path I could barely see but had been on before with him, in the summer, on foot. If we were where I thought we were, then it was a good thing I stopped when I did. The road ahead made a sudden left and dropped off into nothing. I completely missed the warning signs in the sudden storm.

Which probably also meant that my Jeep might be barreled over the mountain anyways, if anyone else came up on it too quickly. I sighed. At least it might slow someone else down who shouldn’t be on the road.

“You alright back there?” came Kristoff’s voice through the helmet. He, unlike me, had on a down full body suit, and was prepared to be out in this weather. His large body was shielding me from most of the wind but my feet had gone numb with cold as soon as we started moving.

“How much longer until we get to wherever we’re going?” I asked.

“Only a few more minutes, hang in there,” came his reply. One of his hands patted my own arm around his waist. I squeezed a little tighter in response, silently thanking him.

He wasn’t lying to make me feel better. Within a few minutes, we crested a hill and in front of us was a large, brightly lit, warm and welcoming cabin.

We rode for another few minutes before Kristoff pulled the snowmobile under a covered pavilion to the side of the cabin. He killed the engine and hopped off with ease. I, however, couldn’t move on my own. Within seconds, Kristoff had assessed my situation; one hand went for my rifle, the other around my waist, and then we were half-running, half-limping toward the house. He practically carried me up the front porch steps before opening the main door and pushing me inside before heartily closing the door behind us.

He pulled his hood down before removing his goggles and ski mask. His face still had a rosy tint to it from the cold and I was surprised to see that he had grown a thick beard. “Boots off first, let’s get those toes warmed up,” he said, before bending down to my feet.

“I know how to beat frostbite, Kristoff,” I said, a little feistier than I intended. I didn’t like being rescued - I was the rescuer, after all - and least of all by Kristoff, the only person on the mountain who was better at my job than me.

He stopped, one hand ungloved and pulling on his other mitten, before glancing up at me, one eyebrow raised. Never breaking eye contact, he kneeled and reached for my shoelaces.

“Fine. Thank you,” I said through my teeth. To his credit, he didn’t mock me or smile, simply unlaced my boots and pinched my toes. “Do you feel that?” he asked.

“Not as much as I should, no,” I squirmed.

“Get in front of the fire then,” he said while yanking at the zipper at his neck. I watched him pull it down to his navel before I realized I was staring and slowly made my way over to the fireplace. A small fire had been smoldering; I grabbed a log from the hearth and placed it on top, then began poking, stirring the fire up. In minutes, it was roaring again, the logs popping and crackling.

“Whose place is this?” I asked, getting my fingers and toes as close to the fire as I could without being burned. I still had my coat and scarf on, and snow had begun to drip off of me and onto the stone hearth. My feet were starting to thaw out and I sighed, relieved.

Kristoff cleared his throat from the doorway as he hung up his suit and laid his accessories out to dry. He was wearing flannel-lined jeans, rolled at the ankle to reveal thick wool socks. He reached for his waist, grabbed his sweater, and pulled it up over his head. I saw a sliver of pale skin and red thermal before I looked away.

“You shouldn’t get undressed so quickly, you know that,” I said.

He walked over to where I was standing in front of the fire while rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. He stuck his hands out in front of him, warming them by the fire for a minute. “I was sweating under that suit. I need to air out and dry out,” he said. “Are you dry under that coat?”

“Um,” I paused. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Take it off anyways. You’re making a puddle and it’s wet on the outside. Your feet are going to get wet in a second. I’ll hang it up to dry.”

I didn’t want to agree with him; I was cozy and comfortable in my coat, dripping or not. I did, however, know better. Most people don’t realize that they are freezing to death – they just feel comfort at last and let go. So I quickly unzipped my jacket and had just removed it when a warm, heavy flannel settled over my shoulders. Kristoff had grabbed a woolen blanket and laid it over me. Tucking my hands under it, I pulled it tight across my chest and snuggled down into the warmth. “Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, all business. I wondered if he could even shut off his inner rescuer. He moved toward the kitchen. “Coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please,” I paused. “Can I help you?” I offered, wanting to be at least a little bit useful. I was used to taking care of myself and others, not being taken care of. I wasn’t in charge at the moment and it was bothering me.

“Nope, I’ve got it. Please, sit down.” I hovered by the fireplace a minute or two longer before giving in, walking over to the couch and snuggling down. It might have just been the cold talking, but this was the most comfortable couch I had ever sat on. I made sure that the blanket was wrapped around my feet; I was slowly getting my feeling back in my toes. I was suddenly very tired, another bad sign, so I shifted again in an effort to keep myself awake.

Kristoff handed me a large mug of steaming tea before adding another log to the fire. Then he finally settled on the couch next to me and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

“So,” I said, “whose house is this? You didn’t say, though I’m assuming you’ve been here before, since you know where the tea is.”

Kristoff shifted a little uncomfortably. “Well,” he started, paused, then with a deep breath, determinedly said, “it’s mine.”

My eyes went wide as I took in the perfect view and the comfortable couch again. I had known and worked closely with Kristoff for years and yet I never knew where he called home. This was easily the most gorgeous and homey cabin I had ever been in, and I had been in a lot of fancy cabins. A lot of rich folk thought they could trade their golf course mansions for a place in the mountains easy-peasy, never realizing that life in the mountains was quite a bit tougher than life on the green. Half of my rescues were wealthy idiots who favored themselves hunters or lumberjacks and got lost a mile from their own homes after a bit too much bourbon.

This cabin though...this was the real deal. I could see the stamp of Kristoff everywhere that I looked now, from the worn boots by the door to the hand-carved wooden banister. He must have put years of back-breaking work into this place. I glanced at him to find him a bit rosy-cheeked and looking down at his socked feet.

“Did you build it yourself?” I asked.

“The original frame was my grandpa’s. I’ve added on over the years, including the top floor,” he answered.

I hadn’t bothered to look around much, being so focused on getting warm. But now that I was out of the danger zone, I needed to stay awake to keep my blood flowing and had an idea for a way to do so.

“Can you give me a tour?” I asked.

Kristoff looked up, surprised. I laughed a little at his face. “I take it that you’re not very used to having visitors?”

“No,” he replied with a slight chuckle, “No, not really. Sure, I can, uh, give you a quick tour.” He was on his feet quickly, much faster than a man of his size should be able to move, and extended a hand to me. The gentlemanly gesture caught me by surprise. I placed my mug on the coffee table and gave him my hand, letting him pull me up from the couch.

Standing this close to him, both of us in our bare feet, he was still over a head taller than me. I raised an eyebrow and looked up at him. “Just curious, was your grandpa part giant, or what?” I asked, teasing. His expression didn’t change at all when he replied, “Nah, but yours must have been part elf, right?”

I must not have as good a poker face as Kristoff, because he burst out laughing at me. Surprised, I laughed along with him.

“I’ll have you know, they were, thank you very much,” I stuck my tongue out then laughed again. He began walking toward the staircase on the other side of the room and I followed. “That was a good one, I’ll give you that. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you tell a joke before,” I said.

“Well,” he responded, taking the first few steps, “our line of work is usually pretty serious. There’s not much time for kidding around.”

I sighed, knowing exactly what he meant. Our jobs as rangers meant long hours in harsh weather, protein bars for dinner, and utter exhaustion. I usually fell into a cot on the base face-first at the end of the day. Sometimes I didn’t go home for days and most of my clothes were in my locker at the base instead of in my closet at home.

“I know,” I said. “I love it anyways, though.”

“Me, too. Wouldn’t give it up for anything.”

“Regardless,” I said, “I’ve never seen your smile before. It looks good on you.” I meant the compliment as an acknowledgement of my gratefulness for Kristoff being in the mountains tonight and giving me a warm place to stay safe in, but I wasn’t sure how he would take it. I kept my eyes on my feet as we continued our tour.

Kristoff had stopped at the top of the stairs and turned around toward me. I glanced up at him but he had an unreadable expression on his face. Not wanting to make things more awkward, I looked around. We were over the living room in a loft area, the large windows straight ahead. The cabin was somehow more beautiful from this high angle. I ran my hand over the polished banister, tracing the patterns with my fingers. “This really is a lovely home, Kristoff.”

He cleared his throat, a habit when he was nervous. “You haven’t seen half of it yet, come on,” he said.

He led me down an open hallway, rooms shooting off each side. We passed a small office, bookcases filled floor-to-ceiling with small carvings, books, and maps. A large den with a fireplace and a deck on the back of the house was next. The room was large but cozy, more leather furniture and thick rugs in front of the fireplace. It was the kind of room you’d want to open Christmas presents in and sit while watching falling snow.

I must have lingered a bit too long; Kristoff was no longer with me. I peeked down the hallway to see him a few feet away, hovering by a door. I joined him.

“What room is this?” I asked.

He paused, taking a breath, before pushing open the door and stepping aside so I could enter. The room was easily as big as the living area downstairs; it appeared to take up most of the top floor addition. I walked in and gasped. If I thought that the rest of the cabin was lovely, it didn’t compare to this room.

High, peaked ceilings with exposed wood beams ran the length of the room; an antler chandelier with what appeared to be real candles hung between the beams, the drippy wax dried in pretty stalactites. The walls were made of rough wood, unpolished and earthy compared to the rest of the cabin’s gleam. Two of the walls were almost completely glass; large windows had been fit between the timber beams as well as a set of glass doors that led to a balcony. It was gorgeous.

A stone fireplace was nestled in the corner, large enough to heat the room even with all of the windows. Along one wall was a large, cozy-looking iron-framed bed with red flannel sheets, multiple down pillows, and a worn quilt that looked incredibly soft. I smiled a little at the contradiction of strong metal, manly flannel, and baby-soft pillows, and wondered if Kristoff realized that his bed was a metaphor for himself.

I couldn’t look away from the bed; it was a bed that you didn’t want to get out of on Sunday mornings, a place where you nibbled on donuts and drank coffee while your feet stayed toasty warm. Above the headboard was a stained glass window panel and I imagined waking up to rainbow sunbeams throughout the room. This bed was a dream bed, and I had to stop myself from climbing in. Instead, I stepped further into the room, exploring an alcove to the left away from the bed and its fluffy temptation.

The long and narrow alcove room jutted out a bit away from the rest of the house, and like the bedroom, it had a wall of windows. The high ceilings here were completely made of glass and the snowfall that had gathered there made it seem like I was standing in a cloud.

I quickly realized that this was an open bathroom and that I was standing in what was essentially the shower. The toilet was tucked into a back corner behind a half wall, allowing for some privacy, but there was a gigantic soaking tub and a rainfall showerhead out in the open, right in the middle of the room with no partitions. There were multiple drains in the river rock floor, enabling the water to flow freely throughout the room.

If you bathed here, you were exposed to both the bedroom and the outside forest. There was no real privacy; it was open and wild.

I leaned against the interior wall and looked at the view. I knew that I was inside, but I felt so strongly connected to the forest around me. The entire bedroom had a magical feeling to it. I sighed with satisfaction. I absolutely loved this room.

Lost in my thoughts, I forgot that I was not alone. Kristoff appeared in the bathroom entrance, hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

“Kristoff,” I started, my voice low, “This room is _magnificent._ ” He didn’t say anything, just simply stared at me for a long moment. Looking back at him, I realized that this was where Kristoff must bathe. This was _his_ room after all, and he would usually be standing right where he currently was, except he would be _way_ more naked.

That was a sobering thought. I straightened up and pushed myself away from the wall.

“Do you want to take a bath or shower, help warm up? It’s probably safe now,” he said, his voice low and calm. I wasn’t prepared to hear him speak like that and shivered a little, though not from the cold. He didn’t miss it and started walking toward me. I backed up against the wall, but he went around me, to the large bathtub, and turned the water on. I pinched myself to snap out of it. Of course he was just going to fill up the tub. What on earth did I think he was going to do?

“Here, this will help with your circulation,” he said, sprinkling a handful of lilac colored bath salts into the water. “The water is mountain spring water, fresh as can be, and it’ll also help aid recovery. Towels are behind you, and I have pajamas you can borrow for when you get out.” He turned back toward me while wiping his hand on his thigh.

“Kristoff, I really don’t need to take a bath up here in your room,” I said, slowly. I didn’t want to offend him. “Is there another bathroom I can use?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Only other functioning one is outside, which you can’t use now that it’s cold; it’s usually just me here, and I haven’t finished plumbing in the downstairs guest bath yet,” he replied.

I sighed. I didn’t like that answer at all. “I just don’t want to invade your privacy any more than I already have,” I took a step toward him and continued, “I didn’t mean to get stuck in the mountains, and trust me, I’m more mad at myself right now for being careless than anything. I don’t like imposing on people and I’m more used to taking care of myself and others than being taken care of.” I had to stop and take a breath; this was harder to say than I realized but I had to get it off my chest.

“Look, you...you are incredible at your job. You’re a better ranger than me and we both know it. I’m not sure I’m comfortable knowing that, _and_ invading your home and your bathtub with my cold toes. We both know that you saved me out there and while I am not happy that I needed to be saved, I owe you now. And I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable with me being here than you already are, and getting naked in this gorgeous bathroom where every sin of mine is exposed is bound to make everything _really_ fucking uncomfortable,” I huffed out. Well, it was all out there now, I thought, and too damn late to take it back. I didn’t look at him, choosing to glare at the stupid pretty floor instead.

“Do you always have such a potty mouth off hours?”

That was _not_ what I expected him to say. I looked up, my mouth wide open, shocked, and he just laughed at me. A full belly chuckle erupted from his throat and he just let it loose. Taken completely off guard, I blurted out, “Well, we _are_ in a potty.” He stared at me for a minute before completely losing it, closing his eyes and throwing his head back in laughter. I joined in, my nerves getting the best of me. We laughed for a few minutes, both of us wiping tears from our eyes and taking deep breaths to calm down.

As it was quieting, I decided to speak. “I’m sorry, Kristoff, for my little outburst,” I said, still chuckling a bit. “And yes, you know I have a mouth like a sailor, even on the job.”

He only shook his head and laughed under his breath. “Please don’t be sorry. I think you needed to get that out,” he said.

“Though, I’m not sure I agree with a few of your points,” he continued, taking a few steps until he was standing right in front of me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, gently, squeezing.

“One, it is my job to save lives, and your life is worth no less than someone else who gets lost in the woods,” he said. “A sudden storm could catch any of us unprepared; it’s not a weakness or a sign that you aren’t good at your job. It’s just a part of the risk we take every single day.”

His hand traced down my back, grabbing one of my braids and twirling the end lightly between two fingers. “Now, for two,” he said, “What is this nonsense about ‘we both know that I’m a better ranger than you’?”

I flushed, embarrassed. That bit of insecurity wasn’t meant to be said out loud. “It’s the truth,” I said.

“The truth is a matter of circumstances, Anna,” he replied. “What makes you think I’m better than you?”

“You want me to make a list of reasons? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Start with one, just one reason.”

“You’re stronger than me,” I blurted out. He was standing in front of me, blocking the view through the windows. He himself was a god damned mountain. It was the first thing that came to mind.

“Yeah? And that makes me a better ranger? You’re smaller than me. You can climb through the densest of forest, wiggle through the smallest car window.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just because I’m stronger doesn’t mean that I’m better at my job. My size and strength can be a positive, yes, but in the wrong situation, it can also be a weakness. The same can be said for your size and strength. It’s not as black and white as you think it is, Anna. What else do you got?”

I paused, thinking. He knew he was right, and I had to admit it. Insecure thoughts I had been pushing down for years came unbidden to my mind. “You’re more comfortable in the mountains than I am, you know the trails better than I do,” I said, hanging my head a little in shame. I didn’t mean for this conversation to go this far.

The hand on my braid came back to rest on my shoulder before falling away. “You’re right on that one, I do know the trails better than you because I grew up here,” he said. “But you know the river better than I do.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. I know the trails because they are familiar to me, but in an unfamiliar place, you’re better at reading the surrounding landscape than I am. You never need a map to find a river and follow it home. It’s like an instinct you have,” he said. “Remember the training bootcamp we did last summer with the team?”

Yeah, I remembered. I took the team 350 miles away for a training camp, then put them in 95+ degree heat in the middle of August for three days. We were supposed to bond as a team; instead, we almost killed each other and our only map was torched on accident. It became real, really fast. I nodded.

“You stepped up then, as you always do - there’s a reason that you are the leader of our team. You figured out where we were and you got us to safety, without anyone killing each other,” Kristoff said.

“Being good at this job isn’t about being strong or smart all of the time, Anna. You have to be able to lead people, have them want to follow you, and that is the part of the job you are way better at that me.”

He stepped closer to me, his face just a few inches away from mine. His voice was low.

“And three, just so we’re clear,” he tucked a piece of fallen hair behind my ear, “I am not uncomfortable with you being in my home, naked or not.” He cracked a devilish smile. It was so unfamiliar and a bit shocking to see a smirk like _that_ on Kristoff’s always gentle and serious face. While my brain was trying to accept what my eyes were seeing, my body reacted instinctively. I felt heat rise up my throat to my cheeks. My toes tingled.

Kristoff blinked, long and slow like a cat. He was reading my reaction to him and cataloguing it - though he made no movements and kept his face poker straight, his eyes gave him away.

Then suddenly, he blinked, hard, and shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever he was thinking. He stepped back from me, only to go around to shut the tap off for the bath. I hadn’t realized it was almost full. From where I was standing, I could see that the water was a vibrant blue green, like a mountain stream.

I watched him bend over the tub and caught myself wondering if it was big enough for two.

He moved to take two towels from a shelf and flipped a switch on the wall. The floor warmed under my feet. I tried to objectively watch as he moved around the bathroom. He was a large, strong, and bulky man, and I had been witness to him using that to his advantage to order belligerent hikers around. Sometimes all it took was a glare and not a spoken word. Yet he always moved with grace, quick on his feet - an athlete. I had also witnessed him crouched nearly to the ground, reaching out to offer a scared child a piece of candy with a hand bigger than the child’s head, yet he always had such gentleness and kindness about him in those moments that no child was ever afraid of him, despite his size. Objectively, I had always found Kristoff handsome in a Brawny paper towel man kind of way. And of course, I had trusted him with my life and the team’s safety for several years now. But it wasn’t until this moment, alone in his cabin, that I realized...I was _attracted_ to him. Oh boy.

I must have made a sound at the thought because the ranger’s head snapped up, his eyes searching mine.

“I’m,” I started to say, but had to clear my throat several times. “I’m fine, sorry.” I smiled, gently, holding his gaze for a moment. He raised an eyebrow slightly, questioning, before a small smile appeared on his own face. He nodded.

“You may want to give the water another minute or two to cool off before hopping in so you don’t burn your toes,” he said, hopping up and walking toward the door. “I’ll leave pajamas on the bed for you.”

“Right,” I said, “that works.”

“I’ll be downstairs, give you some privacy.” Kristoff was almost to the bedroom when I called out to him.

“Kristoff!” I nearly shouted. He stopped, turned, a curious but patient look on his face.

“I…” I stopped. Should I get closer? Should I hug him? I took a few hesitant steps, testing the waters. Kristoff’s gaze darkened and I stopped. We couldn’t go there. Not yet. Not in this very magical naked room with a tub that was, yes, definitely big enough for two.

“Thank you. For everything.” There. Simple, straightforward and five feet away. Safe. Like always with Kristoff.

To his credit, he didn’t so much as blink. Simply nodded and with a husky voice, said, “You’re welcome.” Then he spun on his heel and walked out. I heard the bedroom door quietly close a few seconds later, and I was left alone with my new - and alarming - thoughts. 

# # #

I had been soaking in the incredible tub, water up to my neck, for approximately 10 minutes when there was a loud crack and subsequent crashing sound outside. Immediately after, the power went out.

It only took me a few seconds to get myself out of the tub, wrapped in a plush towel, and out of the wet bathroom. If there was a storm, the last place I wanted to be was in the bathtub. I shivered as I left the steamy environment and heated floor. Still wrapped in just a towel, I immediately went to the fireplace. There was a log bin, dry kindling, and matches on the hearth. Kristoff was prepared.

I set to work and after a few moments, had a nice glowing fired started. I was standing in front of the fireplace, warming myself, when Kristoff burst through the door.

“Anna, are you alright? A tree came down and…” he screeched to a halt, choking on his words when he saw me. His startled eyes met mine, only for a second, before slowly traveling down my body, taking in the towel and water droplets on my skin. My hair was loose, wet, and curling, hanging over my shoulders and down my back, and he paused in his review, staring. When his eyes met mine again, they were burning.

I was hit with a sudden crash of absolute desire. I wanted Kristoff to march forward, push me back against the cold glass wall of windows, and have his way with me right there in front of the fire. Every single cabin fantasy I ever had came to the forefront of my mind and I wondered, briefly, if the reality wouldn’t be better.

My thoughts showed. Kristoff recognized the emotion on my face for what it was. He slowly let go of the doorknob, took a step forward and to the right, then quietly and purposefully closed the door behind him. His eyes never left mine. My breath caught in my throat.

Eyes on my face, he took one large step forward, then waited, gauging my reaction. When I didn’t react, he took another, faster, more purposeful step toward me. This time I backed up, not from fear, but out of pure instinct. He was _hunting_ me. And while I was perfectly ok with letting him catch me, I wasn’t going to make it too easy for him. The rebellious ranger inside of me wanted to see what he’d do and was trying to force his hand.

It was the wrong move.

Kristoff instantly stopped, and the hunger in gaze was replaced by immediate and true concern. It was all over his face - he thought he had frightened me.

He let out a breath, took a few small steps to the bed, and picked up the pajamas. Holding them with both hands out in front of him, he took very slow and small steps toward me, like one would a spooked horse. I took three large steps and met him halfway. Surprise overtook his features. I stood my ground urging him to see that I wasn’t afraid, that I wanted this.

Gently, he held the pajamas out to me. I saw now that it was just a large flannel pajama top and a pair of socks that would likely be much too big on me. I reached out, not for the fabric, but instead for his hands. His hands were large, nearly twice the size of my own, and his finger tips were calloused from hard use. I wanted to feel them drag across my skin.

I squeezed his hand with my own, letting him know that I wasn’t afraid. I looked up at him from under my eyelashes, a move I hadn’t pulled in God knows how long, and prayed that it worked. He swallowed, hard, and I took that as a good sign. Still, the heat of the moment from a few minutes ago was gone and I didn’t want to force it.

Instead, I simply requested, “Help me?” before turning my back to him and extending my arms behind me a bit. Kristoff shifted and without making a sound, held the pajama top up like a robe for me to slip into. Once it was secured enough around my shoulders, I dropped the towel and pulled the front closed to begin buttoning it. The top came to my thighs and fit me like a nightgown. It was much less revealing than the towel but I felt more exposed; there was an intimacy here, wearing something of Kristoff’s like this. We had always been close, but it was a different kind of intimacy - the kind of bond you formed when life or death hung in the balance. If I were being honest with myself, this kind was much scarier.

Lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t realize right away that Kristoff’s hands were brushing back my hair from my shoulders. He bent his head down and in a rough voice, gently asked into my ear, “Allow me?”

I turned my neck to look back at him. He was much closer than I realized and the light in his eyes was back, though not as bright as before.

I slowly turned around. The nightgown was large enough that it easily wrapped around my body and did not gape open as I moved. Kristoff didn’t make to move toward me, instead waiting for a signal. I nodded, firmly.

Slowly, he trailed his hands up my arms, barely touching me with his fingertips as he passed. I swore my skin started glowing from everywhere he touched. He folded the collar of the shirt down then settled on the third button from the top, hands just below my sternum. This whole time, he was watching my face, gauging my reaction to his movements. That was Kristoff - always observing the area, marking the safest routes for passage in his mind. Everything that I appreciated about him in the field I was beginning to appreciate in closed quarters. I smiled at the thought and closed my eyes.

He did the first button. Then his hands moved to the second, closer to my chest. I took a deep breath and when I didn’t let it out immediately, he whispered, “Breathe.”

I let it out at the same time I opened my eyes, hoping that my hunger for him was apparent. I watched him intently. He barely faltered, his fingers expertly working as he moved down the shirt, knuckles brushing against me light as a feather as he went.

When he got to my stomach, he slid a finger against my bare skin and I jumped. He laughed, low in his throat. “Ticklish?”

“No.” I glared. He did it again and I squirmed.

“I think someone’s fibbing.”

I tried not to laugh, but a small, breathless giggle slipped out. He started to slip his hands inside the shirt on either side of my waist, looking at my face the entire time. I grabbed his hands to stop him. “Don’t you dare,” I warned, pressing against his wrists to hold them in place. It was futile, he was much stronger than me, but I wasn’t going to let him tickle me without putting up a fight.

He smiled and changed course. Instead of reaching for me with his fingertips, he instead splayed his hands out fully, wide palms and longer fingers against my skin. He could almost circle my waist with his hands.

“You’re so tiny,” he said quietly, almost to himself, a warmth in his voice I couldn’t quite decipher. “And soft. So soft.”

He held me for a minute longer before oh-so-slowly removing his hands and continuing his work on the buttons. He got on his knees, eyes level with my navel. When he got to the last button, he let his pinky finger trail under the shirt, tracing my upper thigh. His hands moved to my hips, settling there. Only once all of the buttons were fastened did he remove his eyes from my face and look at my body.

I liked the way he was looking at me. There was hunger, fear, and awe in his eyes, and I was sure, in my own as well. Without realizing or giving myself permission to, I reached out to touch his face. I ran my fingers over his beard and up into his hair, brushing it back from his eyes. He had a little bit of gray at his temples and my stomach flipped at the sight. He closed his eyes at my touch and his fingers tightened on my hips. I studied his face as I stroked his hair. He really was quite handsome.

His jaw was tight, as if he was grinding his teeth. I brought my hand back to his face, rubbing my thumb gently over his jawline. He understood my meaning and relaxed his jaw. When my thumb traced over his full mouth, his lips parted, warm breath coming out in a huff. I wanted to taste him.

Slowly, he grabbed my hand in his own and brought it to his mouth. Looking up at me, never breaking eye contact, he placed a warm and wet kiss in my palm. It burned my skin. My head fell back and I muttered a low “fuck” under my breath. The hand that was still gripping my hip tightened almost painfully at the curse.

He planted kisses along my hand, moving toward the edge of my palm, and I felt his tongue quickly sweep across the soft spot between my thumb and index finger, before he bit down gently, nipping with his front teeth.

I fucking _whimpered_.

He tensed at the sound. His eyes were tightly shut and his breathing hard. We were both frozen in place, tip-toeing dangerously close to the edge and not yet ready to jump off.

“Kristoff,” I managed, not sure what I needed. Did I need him to bring me down to the ground with him? Did I need him to leave the room? I wasn’t sure, but I was certain that my emotions and body were in absolute overload. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so alive where I wasn’t in immediate danger, which was the only thing I had to compare the feeling to. It was like kayaking through whitewater rapids to save someone, pulling them to you, the iciness of the water taking your breath away, worrying that you aren’t safe until you’re on dry land. And once you’re there, you stand, trying to catch your breath and stop your heart from beating out of your chest as loved ones hug and cry and thank you. It’s overwhelming and takes getting used to, and Kristoff was making me react ten times more strongly than even the scariest of my close calls ever had.

He made the first move, leaning back away from me before standing in one swift motion. The hand that was on my body came up to my face. He was watching me the entire time and I recognized a similar thought process registering on his own face. He gently touched my cheek before bending down and planting a rather chaste kiss on the top of my head. I still felt it in my toes.

“As I was saying,” he began, his voice soft and low, yet clear, “a tree came down and managed to take out both the main powerline to the house and the backup generator.”

I reeled from the sudden turn of events. “What?”

“I was going to head out and see if I could fix it.”

“Let me get dressed,” I said. “I’ll help you.”

Kristoff paused, looked at me, weighed his options, and settled on sincerity. “You don’t have the gear you need to go out safely, and you just got warmed up,” he said, carefully, though a cheeky smile broke through at the end of this sentence. “I’d feel better if you didn’t put yourself at risk, but I’m not going to try to stop you, either.”

He was letting me decide, knowing that if he tried to tell me what to do, I’d throw a fit and do the opposite. He was also being very careful not to pull rank. It was startling how well he knew me.

“How often do you very carefully tread water when you talk to me so that it doesn’t sound like an order?” I bluntly asked, eyebrow raised.

He laughed. “It depends on your mood and the situation,” he said. “Sometimes, you need backup and you don’t have the capacity to say what you need. Then, I’ll make the decision that I think matches most closely to what you’d do, and figure I’ll beg forgiveness if I get it wrong.” His tone turned serious as he continued, “Other times, it depends on how strongly I feel about something and how strongly you feel toward the opposite.”

I blanched at that. “You know that I don’t want my team to be afraid of me, right? I need you guys to be honest with me, even if I won’t like hearing it. We can’t put people’s lives in danger because my ego as the one in charge might be hurt.”

He nodded at that. “And do you count in that?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked, not understanding.

He stepped toward me and put his hands on my shoulders. Gently, he said, “I can’t put your life in danger because it might hurt your feelings to do what’s right. Your life counts, too. Same rules apply.”

I sighed, frustrated. He had me there. I took a few minutes to process what I wanted to say and he patiently waited.

“Kristoff,” I began, “I respect you. I respect your thoughts, expertise, and opinions. I go to you as my second all the time because of how much I trust you. I know you can lead this team and I trust you to do it. And if you think I’m wrong, or if you know a better way, I need you to speak up. I might not like it and I can’t promise that I won’t be upset, but if it’s the right thing to do, then we have to do it. Don’t tread lightly because of my temper - I mean, don’t be an asshole either, because that sucks for everyone,” He chuckled at that, shaking his head at my attempt at humor.

I continued, “I know that you won’t lead me or any of us into a dangerous or bad situation just to be the one in charge. I know that _you_ know that’s not what leading is about. So...I trust your opinion and in this case, I think you’re right. I’ll stay inside.”

He smiled hugely and squeezed my shoulders with tenderness. “The next time we get into a fight, I’m going to remind you that you told me to challenge you,” he said with a wink before turning to leave the room.

“I said nothing about a challenge!” I yelled. “I said, _don’t_ be an asshole!”

I heard him laugh all the way down the stairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. *runs and hides* Please let me know what you think. Do we need to ride out the rest of the storm with these two? (Thank you for reading!)
> 
> Also, cabin inspiration photos can be found on my tumblr: http://modvinnie.tumblr.com/post/162712344421/frostbitten-image-inspiration-liberties-have-been


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still day one of the storm. Picking up where we left off. Kristoff is addressing the downed generator and Anna just got warmed up. (Guess what - she's going to stay that way).

I poked at the fire, turning logs and watching as blackened, charred wood glowed red again with the movement. Sparks fell through cracks, embers burning, until the blaze had spread and flames were licking at the edges of the fireplace. I put the poker back in its rightful place and watched, mesmerized.

Like the fire, I too was burning.

Reaching up, I unbuttoned the top of the pajama shirt I was wearing. _Kristoff’s_ pajamas. I lingered, my fingers running down the smooth and worn flannel. Like Kristoff’s beard, it was soft beneath my hands. Like him, the material was strong, sturdy.

Only when I felt the skin of my thighs did I realize what I was doing. Startled, I grabbed the poker and stabbed the logs in the fireplace again. They roared, snapped, and popped before I was satisfied. 

The clock on Kristoff’s mantle chimed at 6 p.m. Kristoff had been gone for nearly twenty minutes now. I was giving him five more before I went looking for him. Both of us didn’t need to be exposed to the cold in same afternoon, and it was going to be pitch black outside within the hour. We needed to hunker down for the night.

Shaking my head as thoughts of shared beds and body heat plagued my mind, I pulled on the socks Kristoff also lent me. They were comically big on me, reaching almost to my knees. But they were warm, wool, and incredibly cozy. _Everything_ about this cabin was cozy. 

I could see myself here after a long, hard day of work, resting in front of the fireplace. Kristoff and I could make a home cooked meal together, then maybe with full bellies explore that hot tub I saw on the back deck… _._

I shook myself out of it. I didn’t know where these thoughts were coming from, but every time I had a spare moment to myself, I was getting deeper into trouble. Who thought the snow would be the least of my worries?

I glanced at the clock again. Two minutes had gone by. I was officially out of patience and ways to distract myself. Being alone in Kristoff’s bedroom wasn’t helping.

I exited his room, mindful to close the door behind me to trap the heat from the fireplace. At the top of the stairs, I debated for only a moment before hopping up onto and sliding down the banister.

I skidded toward the living room and added a few additional logs from the hearth to the fire. Kristoff had built-ins on either side of the fireplace to keep extra firewood. I eyed them up. We probably had enough to get us through the night and early tomorrow, but we’d need more if he didn’t get the generator fixed.

As I stirred the logs, the room was cast in a warm glow. It was darker down here, the last light of day blocked by the thick treeline. I watched the windows as I counted down. _Ten, nine, eight…_

The door blew open with a gust, snow and Kristoff traveling in with it, before he slammed it shut behind him. He was white-faced and grimacing, holding a hand protectively to his side.

I was beside him in an instant, patience long gone and concern taking over. “What happened?” I demanded.

“Piece of the generator bracket broke off in the storm, sliced open my side,” he said in one quick breath. “First aid kit is in the coat closet.”

I looked at his side; his mittened hand was soaked in blood. “Get to the couch, now,” I said before turning and grabbing the kit from the closet. I ran to the kitchen for towels, my feet sliding out from under me when I turned too quickly. I caught myself before I face-planted and made more of an effort to be careful in my rush. I’d be of no use knocked out on the floor.

Kristoff was half sitting, half laying on the couch when I entered the living room. He was attempting to unzip his coat but needed both hands. He gave up and moved to his boots, bending only for a second before hissing in pain and throwing his head back against the couch.

I quickly dumped the first aid supplies on the heavy wooden coffee table. Mindful that I was half naked, I tucked his shirt under my thighs and settled on my knees on the floor next to him so I could easily reach his injured side.

“How badly is it bleeding?” I asked, already sorting through the first aid kid. My cup of tea from earlier was still sitting there, ice cold now. The adrenaline rush was enabling me to process more details than usual; I could smell the cinnamon.

“The cold slowed it already,” he breathed out. “I’m okay.”

Nodding, I reached for his boots. Quickly undoing the laces, I tossed his shoes unceremoniously by the fireplace before reaching for the zipper at his chest. Gingerly, I unzipped the fabric.

“I need to get this off of you. Ready?” I asked.

Kristoff nodded and leaned forward. Quickly, I pulled the jacket over his wounded side. His hand lifted away as I peeled the coat from his shoulders and down his arms, before he pressed it again to his side.

The large and dark stain on his flannel shirt sent me into immediate ranger response mode.

Wasting no time, I grabbed a handful of his shirt in both hands and pulled. The buttons came popping off, scattering on the floor with little _ping, ping_ sounds. I reached for the hem of his red thermal, intent on pulling all of the layers off over his head in one fell swoop, when he spoke:

“You could at least buy me dinner first.”

I froze mid-lift, my hands under his shirt, the pale skin of his belly exposed. I felt the heat start at the back of my neck and work its way toward my face. He laughed, then gasped, as the sudden movement tweaked his side. It snapped me out of my shock.

“Serves you right,” I said hotly, lifting his shirt up and over his head, almost taking his arm off in the process. “Making dirty jokes when you’re lying on the couch bleeding.”

He simply chuckled. “Worth it,” he mumbled to himself. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, I smiled.

It quickly faded when I realized how much blood was on Kristoff’s side.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, reaching for gloves and a towel. I snapped the rubber gloves into place, ignoring the slight sting against my wrists, before I soaked the towel with antiseptic and began gently cleaning Kristoff’s side, trying to find the wound.

“Do you know if the bracket broke off inside of you?” I asked.

“No, just sliced me, didn’t stab me,” he said. “There’s probably a gash, not a puncture wound.”

I pressed a little harder as I cleaned him up. At a certain spot, he gasped. “Think you found the spot,” he said. 

I took the bottle of antiseptic and squeezed it on Kristoff’s side. He hissed but made no other sound. I could clearly see the cut now - a long gash just under his ribs. He was right, the cold was on his side. The bleeding had almost stopped.

“You’re lucky, it’s a clean cut, no gaping. I don’t think you’ll need stitches, the butterflies should work,” I said as I pressed a clean cotton pad to the gash. I held it for a few minutes, released it to check the blood flow, and dissatisfied with the resulting trickle, pressed the pad to his flesh again.

“Just have to keep pressure on it for a minute longer now,” I said. Kristoff nodded, leaned his head back again, and closed his eyes.

Immediate danger averted, I exhaled, hard. It was just a cut. Kristoff was going to be ok. A nagging thought in the back of my mind piped up and I realized just how invested I was. I wasn’t simply going through the motions of first aid response like I normally would. I cared - very much - that he was hurt, and I would do everything in my power to make sure that he was cared for. Much like the way he cared for me earlier.

“Thank God for your coat, you almost became a Kristoff shish kebab,” I gently said. He chuckled and his stomach rippled under my hand.

That’s when I realized how very shirtless Kristoff was. I peeked up at his face; his eyes were still closed, head still resting on the back of the couch.

Slowly and with intention, I let my gaze roam.

I was struck by the vastness of his shoulders and width of his barreled chest. He was hugely muscled but not carved in stone; his arms, chest, and stomach were simply _thick_ and designed with purpose. He had the body of a man who lived and breathed the wild.

The thick beard along his neck trailed lightly down to meet a smattering of dark chest hair. My eyes traced the hairline as it thinned along his torso before growing in thickness again around his navel and down. The muscles of his stomach cut a deep v against his hips where they disappeared into his jeans. There my gaze stopped and stared, longingly. I had the sudden urge to sink my teeth into his flesh, to mark him there, where no one could see but me.

Kristoff’s skin burned under my fingers and the heat of the fire nipped at my back. But neither prepared me for the flame I felt when I realized that Kristoff was watching _me_ watch _him._  

Instinctively, I looked up and our eyes met. His were burning with desire, no trace of pain left in his face. I nervously bit my lip and his eyes traced the movement before finding mine again. We were locked together in a staring contest for several seconds, neither moving nor breathing. 

Except there was no time for that now, because Kristoff still needed to be bandaged up. His safety had to mean more to me than my own needs. Cursing softly under my breath to break the spell, I tore my eyes away from his and lifted the pad again. The bleeding had stopped.

I set the bloodied towel on the coffee table with a harsh exhale and reached for clean bandages and sutures. I quickly swabbed antibacterial ointment over the gash, careful not to linger, then ran an alcohol swab along the edges so that the sutures could adhere to his skin. With practiced efforts (this was not my first rodeo with field medicine), I pinched the edges of the gash together and stuck the sutures to his skin. Three butterfly bandages later, the cut was mostly closed and looking much better.

Carefully, I laid a clean cotton pad and gauze over the area. I removed my gloves and grabbed the medical tape, quickly tearing four strips. Gently, I secured the gauze over the wound.

My fingers traced cautiously and firmly over the edges of the bandage, once, twice. On the third pass, I flattened my hands against Kristoff’s stomach and side. His skin was hot to the touch.

I kept my eyes on his wound, unable to look at his face. I swallowed, hard, and tried to control myself.

With a husky baritone, Kristoff asked, “All done?”

I rocked back on my heels, standing, before answering with a quiet, “All done.” I began cleaning up the supplies and mess on the coffee table, intent on ignoring the elephant - or mountain man - in the room.

Kristoff had no such plan. He grabbed my wrist as I moved past him, stopping me in my tracks. I turned slowly to meet his gaze from where he was sitting up on the couch.

I twisted my wrist until I could brush the back of his hand with my thumb. I needed him to know that I wasn’t rejecting him, that I was simply overwhelmed.

We were used to this, in a way - small gestures of body language when a spoken word couldn’t be uttered. A slight head shake to signal a no go, a nod to say, “Yes we’re ok.” A pat on the back for a job well done. Sometimes it wasn’t gentle. Kristoff has forcefully pulled me from a burning car and pulled me across a frozen lake by my feet before the ice gave way. I have thrown my entire body into him to push him, hard and off-balance, out of the way of a falling tree limb and climbed on his shoulders like a monkey to reach a dangling hiker on the edge of a cliff. We were used to each other’s bodies and the language of safety that came with it. He had already proved to me in the bathroom that he could read me like a book. This new line we were walking though...I wasn’t sure exactly when I’d cross it. All I had was what was familiar to me, and that was a reassuring touch of the hand.

Kristoff released his firm grip and instead gently brushed his fingers against mine until we were lightly holding hands. I looked down and my heart sputtered at the sight.

“Anna,” he said, pulling my eyes back to his. His tone was grave, his voice low but firm. He squeezed my hand. “Thank you.” 

I wasn’t expecting his sincerity or gratitude and it surprised me; after all, I was just doing what I was trained to do. And helping Kristoff had helped my confidence. I didn’t feel as much of a damsel in distress, a burden. It was nice to be useful, pulling my own weight again. I briefly wondered if he wasn’t feeling the same inner turmoil as I was, and told myself to tone it down a notch.

I clasped his hand a little harder in return. “You’re welcome, Kristoff.”

The content and peaceful smile I received in return gave me butterflies. I hadn’t seen Kristoff with such a light expression on his face before. It looked good on him.

I turned to finish my tidying up before I began blushing again. Whatever was between us had gotten under my skin. I was starting to ache with tension and my head was pounding with too many thoughts.

From the kitchen, I heard Kristoff grunt a little as pushed himself up from the couch and gingerly walked to the hallway closet. I disposed of the used medical supplies, sealing the bloodied bandages and gloves into a plastic bag to hide the scent in the trash from the wildlife in the area, and placed the used towels in the sink for a good rinse.

I had finished scrubbing the towels and was washing my hands when I heard Kristoff enter the kitchen. I turned the water off and turned toward him, slightly smirking.

“Besides,” I said, “Now we’re even.” I was teasing but there was a slight weight to my tone. I was sure Kristoff would pick up on my meaning. 

He had pulled on a new flannel shirt but left it unbuttoned. Pale skin and coarse hair peeked through the opening. I strangled the towel in my hands.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he casually said. “I’m still wearing pants, after all.” 

I dropped the towel. My jaw hit the floor with it. The son of a bitch read my tone alright; he knew _exactly_ the kind of affect he was having on me. I gaped at him, stunned. Did that mean he was feeling it, too? The tension and...development between us? My head spun.

Kristoff simply walked to the fridge and got out two bottles of beer, ignoring my reaction. He cracked the top off both bottles on the butcher block island and slid one toward me.

“And,” he said, looking right at me, “I don’t look near as good in those socks as you do.” He tipped the bottle back and took a long, hard drink, then set it down on the counter and stared.

I picked up the dishtowel and grabbed the second bottle of beer, intent on pounding it. I swallowed every sharp retort with each chug. Kristoff was killing me with his easy and honest flirting. I kept my mouth occupied until the bottle was empty, then slammed it down on the counter. Still, no words came to me.

Kristoff smirked at me. “Better?”

I ran my tongue over my teeth. “Yes.”

“Good. Hungry?”

I thought about it. “Yes, actually.”

“Pasta sound ok?”

“Sounds wonderful,” I replied with a sigh. I glanced at my empty bottle. “Why are we carbo-loading?” 

“Because,” he said as he started pulling food from various cupboards, “we’re going to run out of firewood before this storm passes and we need to chop more. Manually. Plus it’ll help us keep warm tonight.” _Oh, I don’t think we’ll have trouble with that._

I looked toward the fireplace, opting for ranger talk, the perfect distraction. “I think we have enough to get through the night if we’re smart about it.”

“We do,” he said. “After we finish making dinner, we’re going to need to lock ourselves upstairs.” 

I couldn’t _honestly_ say I was surprised at the revelation. During my inspection of Kristoff’s room, I recognized that it was built to ride out a storm: access to water, even fresh snow from the roofline and balcony; an area that could be closed off with a central heat source; windows to let in maximum daylight when there was no power; and use of facilities. Still, stating out loud that we would be riding out the storm while secured in his bedroom sent chills down my spine. I had been trying and failing to avoid those thoughts since before my bath, and here Kristoff was, just stating it matter of factly. Throwing it right out there into the middle of our cozy little cabin universe.

Typical.

Obliviously, or perhaps _too_ knowingly, Kristoff filled a large iron dutch oven pot with water and carried it to the living room fireplace. He nestled it between the logs to begin the slow process of boiling water. He was putting maximum space between us. Maybe he could read me better than I thought.

Wanting to pull my weight (and distract myself, who am I kidding), I popped open and emptied a canning jar full of homemade sauce into a smaller iron pot. I snuck a taste on my pinky; it was incredibly delicious. I also refilled the kettle from earlier, intent on making fresh tea to also aide in keeping us warm.

Grabbing a bag of frozen pasta - also appearing homemade - with the rest of my bounty, I joined Kristoff in the living room and handed him the pot and kettle. He placed the sauce in the back of the hearth to warm and hung the kettle above the flames, then settled himself on the couch, careful not to rattle his tender side. He ran a hand absentmindedly over the bandage, his shirt pulling open with the movement.

“Are you in a lot of pain?”

He dropped his hand and smiled, reassuringly. “No, it’s not that bad. Just pulling a little,” he said. “You did a fine job, Anna.”

I smiled at his praise. I might be a hot mess when it came to sorting out my feelings and desires, but I knew I was damn good at my job. It was nice to be sure of myself for the first time tonight.

I opted to have a seat next to Kristoff, keeping space between us, and tucked my knees under myself. Kristoff reached for the blanket he had wrapped around my shoulders earlier and spread it across my lap. His right hand lingered at the edge and, nailing my courage to the sticking place, I quietly took it in my own. He stared at our hands for a moment then looked back to the fire. Both of us had goofy, happy, stupid smiles on our faces.

I couldn’t decide if it was a matter of circumstance, or simply that we had time to notice now, but something was building between us. Maybe it had always been there but we were too busy saving lives and strictly surviving to notice. Maybe it was new. Maybe it was only because of the storm.

Kristoff got up to place the pasta in the rolling water. He topped off the mug of cinnamon tea from earlier to rewarm it and filled a new mug with hot water and a tea bag. He handed me the new one; I put it back and picked up the old. He just shook his head and laughed under his breath. I thought I heard him mumble something that sounded suspiciously like “stubborn ass” but I just smiled and sipped my tea.

As I sat there and watched Kristoff shove his hands in his pockets, I realized that there was no one else I wanted to survive this snowstorm with, almost frostbitten toes and all. Warmth and appreciation flooded through my chest. I bit my lip to keep myself from squealing out loud.

The buttery leather of the couch squeaked beneath me as I adjusted my position, curling a foot under myself. I grasped the mug of tea more tightly between my hands, thankful for its warmth, and raised it toward my face, inhaling the spicy-sweet scent of cinnamon.

Outside, the snow kept falling and the storm howled. Fluffy white flakes piled on the porch railing, now at least six inches thick. The view from the couch was beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling windows ran up the walls on either side of the fireplace, providing a view of both the roaring fire and the gentle snowfall. I could see miles of pines, their boughs laden with snow. The darkness of night was fast approaching over the horizon.

I never wanted to leave, though I shouldn’t have been here in the first place. Ironically, the very scenery I was admiring is what got me into this situation, and was also what was preventing me from getting out.

I had never been more thankful to be trapped by snow in my entire life. A ranger, happy to be trapped. That’s a twist of fate for you.

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t realized that dinner was ready. Kristoff had two bowls already prepared and was handing me one. I took it from him, the savory aroma of the sauce making my stomach grumble. Kristoff laughed as he sat down next to me, facing me this time. I put my tea down and dug in.

I twirled my fork until a heaping pile of spaghetti and sauce was wrapped around it, then I shoved it in my mouth in one bite, suddenly ravenous. The pasta was still firm, not overcooked in the slightest, and I wondered how Kristoff had managed that while cooking over a fire. Maybe this is how he did all of his cooking? How was he so good at this, too?

Regardless, the sauce was the best I had ever tasted, sweet, rich, and earthy, and a loud and deep moan escaped before I could stop it. I chewed and swallowed.

“Fuck, Kristoff, this is so good,” I said, already twirling another bite.

He didn’t respond right away, and thinking maybe he didn’t hear me, I opened my mouth to compliment him again.

The look on his face had me snapping my jaw shut with a audible click. I almost bit my tongue off.

Bewildered, I demanded, “What?”

His eyes didn’t leave mine as he reached for my bowl. I hugged it back to my stomach and glared. “No way, this is delicious and I’m just getting started.”

He simply extended his hand, and waited. I challenged him with a raised eyebrow but he didn’t relent. Sighing loudly, I handed over my dinner. “I’ll humor you, but I better get that back,” I said.

He placed both bowls on the coffee table before leaning into me, one arm along the back of the couch, the other trapping me from the side. I leaned back instinctively, giving him space, not sure what he wanted or was trying to do. His left arm grabbed me and splayed across my back, holding me in place while he came even closer still.

Without saying a word, without making a sound, Kristoff filled my personal space, holding me to him. His eyes were on my lips; when he licked his own, my eyes followed.

He had the same look on his face as he did earlier, in the bedroom. Except this time, he wasn’t going to stop. His jaw flinched with tension again.

Oh so slowly, eyes still on my mouth, Kristoff ducked his head down and leaned in.

His lips met the corner of my mouth; not quite the kiss I was expecting. I felt his tongue dart out and sweep across the edge of my lower lip. I trembled, all thoughts of dinner forgotten, and his hand pressed harder against my spine. I waited, ready and willing to finally taste him, but no further kiss came.

Instead, his hand came up to trace my jawline and his thumb brushed over my lips before settling there. I kissed the pad of his thumb, gently.

He nuzzled his cheek against mine, placing soft kisses along my jaw. His mouth reached my earlobe and his teeth greeted it before he whispered to me in a strangled voice.

“I’m going to need you to make that sound again before this storm is over, Anna.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs* Please don't kill me for that cliffhanger! haha. I figured I could post the ~4200 words now and keep going for chapter 3...maybe I'll get better at posting more quickly. No promises but I'm certainly trying!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. I love these two. I tried to explore more of the fluffy feelings in this chapter so this isn't just a complete smut piece, haha. (Though who doesn't love that?) Anna and Kristoff are trying to fight their attraction to each other, and before this storm is over, they're going to lose. Would love to hear your thoughts and ideas. Thank you, readers!!
> 
> Chapter 2 image inspiration: http://modvinnie.tumblr.com/post/164306604571/frostbitten-image-inspiration-chapter-2


	3. Chapter 3

**_Previously:_ **

_His lips met the corner of my mouth; not quite the kiss I was expecting. I felt his tongue dart out and sweep across the edge of my lower lip. I trembled, all thoughts of dinner forgotten, and his hand pressed harder against my spine. I waited, ready and willing to finally taste him, but no further kiss came._

_Instead, his hand came up to trace my jawline and his thumb brushed over my lips before settling there. I kissed the pad of his thumb, gently._

_He nuzzled his cheek against mine, placing soft kisses along my jaw. His mouth reached my earlobe and his teeth greeted it before he whispered to me in a strangled voice._

_“I’m going to need you to make that sound again before this storm is over, Anna.”_

***

I felt Kristoff’s words travel from my ear to my toes and back again, a hot circuit igniting everything in its path, passing through me like lightening.

I grabbed his shirt collar, fists clenching the material like a lifeline, and pushed him back until I could see his face.

He looked slightly sheepish but incredibly aroused, perhaps even a little shocked at his own actions. It didn’t matter. His intentions and desires were out there in the universe now and I didn’t believe in backsies. I raised an eyebrow and looked him dead in the eye.

“Then why don’t you make me,” I challenged.

A second of disbelief flashed on his face, then pure lust, before careful consideration took over. His face barely gave away any emotion but I watched the storm roll through his eyes. He was debating; something was holding him back. I waited.

The hand cupping my face dropped to my neck and stayed there, warm and heavy, a reassurance.

“I want to, Anna. Heavens do I want to,” he began, voice husky. “And if it’s also what _you_ want-” he paused, looking to me for confirmation, before continuing at my nod, “-then I will gladly spend the next 48 hours doing just that. But…” he trailed off.

“But it’s going to be pitch black soon, and we need to finish eating and get upstairs in order to stay warm,” I knowingly said and sighed, heavily. “Safety first and shit.”

“Exactly. Safety first and shit.”

He broke contact to reach for our dinner, then handed me my bowl again. We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, practically eating our feelings with gusto. Both of us had just admitted the desire we felt for one another, which was equal parts startling and exciting, but we couldn’t get careless with our own fate.

Used to wolfing down meals during long shifts and in between rescues, it wasn’t long before we were finished eating. I gathered our dishes and made my way to the kitchen. Kristoff followed with the still warm pot of water we had used to cook in; he placed it in the sink and I quickly rinsed our plates while he gathered supplies in the living room.

Once done tidying up from our meal, I joined him. He was loading firewood into a metal basket to be taken upstairs.

“I have a question,” I said, trying to keep my voice merely curious as I folded the blanket from the back of the couch, intent on taking it upstairs with me.

“What’s up?” he asked while piling logs.

I smiled slyly at him. “Is 48 hours an estimate or an exaggeration?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Neither.”

“Then what was it?” I asked, confused.

He filled the bin to the top before answering. “A promise.”

Then he lifted the considerably hefty basket like it was a bushel of feathers and took off for the stairs without another word, a wink, anything. I floundered for a moment before coming to my senses. I grabbed the tea kettle and our mugs and chased after him. He was already down the hall by the time I caught up.

“You have to stop doing that,” I scolded, flustered.

“Doing what?” he questioned. He juggled the firewood bin with one arm to reach for the doorknob to his bedroom. He had clearly forgotten that he was still injured and didn’t need to be pulling his stitches. I raced after him and pushed him out of the way.

“Let me get that, you infuriating mountain man,” I grumbled. I grabbed the knob and turned, pushing the door open. We were promptly hit in the face with a wall of heat; not wanting to let the hot air escape, we both rushed in and I slammed the door behind us.

Kristoff walked to the fireplace and set the bin down carefully, bending with his legs. Alright, so maybe he _did_ remember that his side was torn up. He tossed a few logs on the fire and stirred them up, encasing the room with a romantic warm glow. I tried not to think about that and failed.

I placed my wares on the dresser next to the door then put my hands on my hips and gave him my best “I may be small but I’m still in charge” stare. “You have to stop saying...the most...you have to stop staying...,” I stammered, then getting even more flustered, practically screamed, “The fucking _sexiest_ remarks I’ve ever heard then leaving the room immediately after!”

He looked at me from across the room. “I’m just stating the truth, Anna,” he said, a hint of smile in his voice. He tilted his head. “Sexiest, ever, huh?”

“Stop it, you big oaf!”

“What are you going to do if I don’t? You going to make me?” he teased.

I almost launched myself across the room at him. I envisioned it: pushing him back against the frosty glass windows, ripping his clothes from his body, sinking to my knees in front of him…yes, I could definitely make him stop _talking_.

Instead, I gave him my back and leaned heavily on the dresser, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to get the vision out of my head. _Think about mud, Anna. Think about mud._

Footsteps, then a soft, “Hey,” from behind me. I ignored him.

“Anna, please, look at me,” he begged. I raised my head and sighed before turning and glaring at him.

His face was twisted in concern, eyebrows pulled down, mouth set in a worried line. He looked remorseful.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He made to reach for me then shoved his hands in his pockets instead.

“I didn’t mean to take it too far. I...I don’t exactly have much experience with this,” he said. “I thought we were on the same page, and I’m sorry if I did anything to make you uncomfortable.”

“Kristoff, stop,” I said, not wanting him to feel like hell. “I’m not mad at you, not really. And we _are_ on the same page. I think. I’m just...God, I’m so _frustrated,_ ” I said. “I’ve never been this attracted to someone in my entire life and it’s like you just know how to push _all_ of my buttons, and I have zero idea how to handle it,” I blurted out.

For the first time all night, he cheeks turned a soft pink. It thawed me out a bit.

“For what it’s worth, I’m struggling, too,” he said.

“What? Really?” I asked, floored. “You don’t seem to be showing it,” I said, suspicious.

He laughed. “Then you’re not paying enough attention. You’re walking around half naked in _my_ clothes, for Christ’s sake, Anna. I’ve had to tear my eyes away from you over 20 times tonight. I’m pretty sure the image of you soaking wet and wearing nothing but a towel while standing in my bedroom is seared onto my brain permanently. I keep repeating, ‘she’s your boss, she’s your boss’ in my head every two seconds.”

I giggled at his admission and his eyes lit up. We both started laughing, completely spent. The tension in the room finally broke and it was a relief. My head felt clear for the first time since I arrived.

I chuckled cynically, then sighed. “What are we doing here, Kristoff?”

“Surviving?”

“No, really. What are _we_ doing here?” I asked.

He took his hand from his pocket and reached out, palm up in invitation. Gently, I placed my hand in his.

“How about getting to know each other? For real, not just as part of the job?” he said.

I smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’d like that.”

A thought occurred to me. “Does it bother you?” I asked.

“Does what bother me?”

“That I’m your boss.”

He raised his eyebrows, then shook his head and led us over to the fireplace. He spread a blanket on the floor for us to sit on, then gestured for me to have a seat.

Once settled, he began. “No, it’s never once bothered me that you are my boss, or that you are a woman and my boss, or anything of the sort, at least where the job is concerned,” he said. “Truth?” he asked.

“Always, please.”

“I’m not sure how this-” he gestured between us with his hand, “-will impact our jobs and I am a _little_ concerned about it, yes. It’s hard not to be. We both love what we do and we both take it seriously. I’m not sure what people will say.”

I frowned in reluctant agreement. “I’m not sure how I feel about it, either. I had to work pretty damn hard to get where I am, and sleeping with the staff is bound to be frowned upon,” I said cynically. Then I realized what I said and with wide eyes, turned to Kristoff. “I didn’t mean to imply…”

He cut me off. “I didn’t hear a thing. Go on,” he said.

“Right,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want every promotion you get from here on out to be considered special treatment, too. I’m worried about both of our reputations, but...God, I also don’t care at all what anyone thinks,” I said, ruefully. “I’m more worried about the safety aspect. We can’t afford to be distracted by each other’s safety. We have to still be willing to risk life and limb to save others, and we can’t do that if we’re endangering ourselves by worrying for each other.”

“Anna, I think that ship sailed years ago,” he said, quietly.

“What do you mean?”

He just laughed a quiet chuckle. “I care about the entire team - we all care about each other. We’re family.”

“This is true.”

“But I’ve cared about you for years, more so than anyone else on the team,” he said. “It’s not easy, it’s never been easy, to watch you throw yourself from a cliff or disappear under white water in order to save someone. You don’t know the number of times I’ve prayed for your red hair to bob above the surface or flash in the treeline so that I know you’ve made it out ok,” he said, pained.

“Kristoff…”

“But I trust you. That’s the key. You know yourself better than I ever will. You know the risks and you won’t take an uncalculated one. You’re incredible at your job, Anna, and my feelings for you won’t jeopardize that. I trust you to keep yourself safe, because I need you to be safe, and that’s the only way. I just hope you can trust me in the same way,” he said.

I stared at Kristoff, overwhelmed by his admission. Years? Trust? I blinked. The minutes ticked by.

“When did you get so stinkin’ smart?” I asked.

He threw his head back and laughed. “When you weren’t looking, I guess. Too busy playing the hero,” he teased.

“Whatever,” I said, laughing along with him. “Come here.”

I wrapped myself around Kristoff, hugging him tightly, no reservations. He gently wrapped his arms around me and we stayed like this, letting the moment speak for us. It was wonderful.

When we pulled back, I grabbed his face in both hands and looked him dead in the eye. “I will do my best to give you the same trust you’ve given me, Kristoff,” I said.

He just smiled. “I know you will.”

We stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, as the fire burned down. We didn’t speak; we didn’t have to. The unbearable tension that had been surrounding us both since the bathroom had been broken...at least for now. The comfort we found in the quiet was better. It was what we both needed after a long and harried day.

As the fire burned lower, I shivered. Even though Kristoff was warm against my side, I was still only wearing a shirt as a nightgown. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the spell.

“We should probably get you in bed,” he said, reading me as always.

“It’s comfortable here though,” I whined, exhausted but refusing to let it show. Undeterred, Kristoff stood.

“Come on, princess,” he said before swiftly scooping me up in his arms. I yelped in surprise.

“Kristoff! You’re going to hurt your side!” I admonished.

“Anna, the wood bin weighed more than you do,” he simply said with a roll of his eyes.

He walked me to the bed and sat me down on the edge. I sunk into pillowy heaven. The flannel was just as inviting and soft as I imagined it’d be. I ran my hands over it repeatedly and wondered how it’d feel against my bare skin.

Kristoff grabbed a pillow from the bed and turned away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I said, suddenly more alert.

“You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said.

I stood up and immediately missed the plushness of the bed. “Uh huh,” I said. “No way. I am not sleeping in your bed while you sleep on the floor. Either you sleep in it with me or I sleep on the floor with you. Besides, we need the body heat. You pick.”

Kristoff sighed and shook his head from his place in front of the fire. “You’re going to fight me on this one, aren’t you?” he asked.

“You pick,” I repeated and crossed my arms.

“Fine,” he said before launching the pillow at me. I caught it before it hit me in the face. “Hey!” I laughed.

Kristoff walked to his dresser and pulled pajamas from one of the drawers. Then, eyes on me, he started slipping out of his shirt. I busied myself with untucking the bed and fluffing the pillows.

When I looked up again, I almost had a stroke.

He was wearing the matching pajama bottoms to the shirt I was wearing - and nothing else. The worn flannel pants rode low on his hips. How he looked earlier on the couch while I was patching him up didn’t do him justice; I preferred him half naked and sleepy, in thick, warm flannel.

He noticed me staring and paused on his way to the bed. I looked at the floor and bit my lip, willing the tension in the room not to spike.

“Are you sure this is ok?” he asked from a few feet away. I looked up. He seemed worried.

“Come here,” I said. He came closer, stopping within arm’s reach from me.

I was unable to find the right words. Instead, I reached out and let my hands trail along his bandaged side and up his chest before settling there. I lightly raked his chest hair through my fingers and scratched gently at his skin.

“I’m sure,” I said with a smile. “As long as you let me be the big spoon,” I winked.

My joke worked to lighten the developing mood. He softly laughed with me. “I think I can be ok with that.”

He reached for my hands and pulled them away from his chest, then raised them to his mouth and softly kissed my fingertips. Touching him casually was helping me to stay grounded. I wondered if it was doing the same for him. It helped with the hunger. Distance seemed to be our common enemy.

Kristoff led me back to the bed before once again lifting me and settling me in. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” I said as I burrowed under the covers as he tucked them around me.

“I know I don’t have to,” he said, “but I want to.”

He walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in behind me. There was easily a mile of room between us, and we both laid there quiet and stiff for a few minutes before I spoke.

“You know, the big spoon thing was a joke. I don’t mind being the little spoon,” I said, quietly, with more bravado than I felt.

I felt the bed dip as Kristoff rolled toward me. I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. He was propped up on one elbow, looking at me. Thinking again.

I bit my lip and decided to go for it. “Will you hold me, Kristoff? Keep me warm?”

His face melted, the first time all night I saw true emotion there. I smiled; either he was relaxing and showing me how he truly felt, or I was getting better at reading him.

He nodded and scooted closer toward me. I rolled back over and lifted my head while his arm wrapped around me under my pillow. Slowly, he let his body come into contact with mine. The heat from his skin was astounding, and I pushed myself back into him to steal more of his warmth. A happy little moan slipped out when I did so.

He froze. “Please don’t do that,” he said in a gruff and strangled plea.

I giggled. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he smirked before sliding his arm around my waist and tucking his hand under me. He pulled me completely flush against his body and held on tight. I sighed in content. This is where I wanted to be: wrapped up safe with Kristoff, in his cozy bed, while the fire burned low and the storm pounded on outside. We were safe and happy here.

“Goodnight, Anna,” he whispered and placed a soft kiss to the top of my head.

I found his hand under the pillow and entwined my fingers with his.

“Goodnight, Kristoff,” I whispered before falling into a deep and easy slumber.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I'm a sucker for fluff. We'll get back to the lemony goodness soon, I promise. There's a hot tub involved (because you can't have a cabin fantasy without a hot tub. It's in the rules!). haha.
> 
> We have maybe 2 or 3 additional chapters coming for this tale. Thank you, everyone, for your comments and feedback.
> 
> Image Inspiration: http://modvinnie.tumblr.com/post/164898724351/frostbitten-image-inspiration-chapter-3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning of Day Two in the storm. Kristoff and Anna have been trapped for almost 24 hours now.

Shimmering sunlight filtered through the room, refracting in sharp beams through the frosted windows, highlighting the unique swirls and breaks of the individual ice crystals that had formed on the glass. Outside, snow piled against the balcony door clear to the doorknob and stuck to the edges of the window frames. It’s brilliance was blinding and I squinted against the white. I turned my head, burrowing further into my pillow, away from the sunbeams that had shone directly on my face and awoken me. 

My pillow exhaled and tightened around me with the movement. 

I cracked open one eye, then both, when I realized I was curled up against Kristoff’s bare torso. My face was planted firmly in his chest, my hands trapped against his stomach. He had one arm wrapped underneath me and around my back, holding me tightly against him, while the other hand was draped over my hip and firmly attached to my bare backside. Our legs were pretzeled together; I could feel the bare skin of his belly against my thigh where I had hitched my leg over his body. We were completely wrapped up in one another. I stopped breathing, all of sudden unsure if I should try to move, get up to add more wood to the fire, or if I should pretend to go back to sleep. 

While I was busy wavering, Kristoff let out a content sigh and shifted beneath me. The hand holding my right cheek slid until it was gripping the back of my thigh, keeping me tight against him. He brushed my hair down with his other hand and kissed the top of my head. 

“Morning, feistypants.”

This was new. It seemed that our talk from the night before was not going to be forgotten. On the contrary, now that our feelings had been addressed, they seemed to grow and expand to fill the room, a new normal that was impossible to ignore.

So I turned my face further into Kristoff’s solid chest and laid a soft kiss there.

“Good morning,” I whispered against his skin. I open my eyes again, willing the sleep out of them. I hadn’t noticed when I woke up that Kristoff was uncovered past his waist; if I couldn’t feel the flannel against my toes, I would have assumed he was stark naked. He cut a thrilling sight. Lightly, I let my fingers trail through his chest hair and trail down his naval. He shivered underneath me.

Emboldened, I untangled myself from him and pushed him lightly so that he was lying more on his back than his side. Then I lifted myself over him, pressing hot, sloppy kisses against his chest and torso. The hand on my thigh tightened each time my mouth came into contact with his skin. 

I shifted against him, sliding my body down against his; his hand trailed up under my night shirt to the bare skin of my side, bunching the flannel up under the covers so I was still hidden from view but exposed to his touch. I kissed down his side to the hollow against the curve of his hips, then gently nipped the skin there before brushing my tongue over the mark. His hips bucked underneath me and a tell-tale pitch was forming in his pajamas.

“Jesus, woman, you’re going to kill me,” he groaned, his voice strangled. “At least get some coffee in me first.”

I smiled against his skin. “Oh? I thought we already started breakfast,” I said then licked his skin again. 

“Christ, c’mere,” he said before sliding his hands out from under my shirt and gripping my waist, pulling me up to him until we were face to face. I instinctively straddled his waist with my knees and leaned toward him, my hair falling around my face and spilling over his shoulders as I did so. 

His large hands moved from my body to brush the hair back from my eyes, then settled on my neck. We were mere inches apart; the sudden change made the situation much more real for me. It was easy to tease him and appreciate the view when I wasn’t able to see the want and need reflected in his eyes. 

And right now, they were smoldering. 

His hair was everywhere, soft pieces flopped into his eyes. His beard was even thicker today; I wondered if he had to trim it every day to keep it neat. I reached up to brush the hair from his face and let my hand trail down his cheek to his jaw until I was cupping his face. 

I licked my lips and his eyes traced my tongue. I began to lean in unconsciously. Kristoff gently turned my head as he pulled me closer to him in bed and held me there until I locked eyes with him. 

He didn’t blink, didn’t break eye contact until the very last millimeter of space between us was crossed. He was open to me, showing me his every desire - the heat of the moment, the nervous energy tickling our skin, the hunger and anticipation, and something deeper, stronger, that settled deep in my belly and warmed my heart. I gasped as I saw every possible emotion play out in his eyes and then his lips were on mine.

He kissed me gently, tenderly. His lips were full and firm under my own and his soft beard tickled my skin. The hand on my face was steady and sure, holding me to him. We stayed like that longer than strictly necessary, frozen in a first kiss that promised much more to come. 

When we finally pulled back, it was to equal looks of awe. Before long, we were both wearing wide smiles and sparkling eyes. It was the most perfect first kiss I had  _ ever _ had. 

I straightened my back until I was sitting above Kristoff and could see him fully for the first time since we woke up. His hands came up to settle at my hips. I let my eyes roam from his hips underneath mine, up his waist and broad chest - rainbow refractions from the stained glass above his bed danced there across his skin, and I traced the patterns with my fingertips - and finally up to his handsome face. I wanted to commit every second of this moment to memory. 

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, completely in awe of him. A dusky pink blush began on his chest and worked its way up to his cheeks. He smiled sweetly at me and sat up. 

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you,” he said and planted a kiss to my nose. 

Although I knew we were being silly and completely cheesy, I felt my own blush start. Kristoff simply chuckled and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. He wrapped his arms around me and held me to him and I sighed, content, wrapped around him. 

“So,” I said into his chest after a few moments, “You said you wanted coffee?”

My body shook as he laughed around me. 

“We’ve got a big day of repairs and hard labor ahead of us. Coffee is how I plan on getting through it,” he said. 

“I brought the kettle up last night, with the basket of tea and coffee from the kitchen,” I said. “It’s on the dresser.”

He turned his head to look. “Ah,” he said, “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

I smacked his chest. “Oh, what? So it’s not my ass after all?” I said, laughing. 

He had the decency to look sheepish. “About that,” he started. “Would you believe I was sleeping and had no idea where my hands were?” 

“Not for a second,” I said. “Though I also wasn’t complaining,” I said with a wink. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Here, get under the covers while I make us coffee,” he said while lifting me from his lap as if I weighed absolutely nothing and depositing me next to him. I pulled the covers up under my arms as he slid out of bed. He grabbed a warm-looking robe from a hook on the back of his bedroom door and slid into it, then immediately set to stirring up the fire from where it has burned down significantly overnight. The air had a bit of a bite to it outside of the covers and away from Kristoff’s heat, and I shivered and wrapped myself up tighter. 

Kristoff added several new logs to the fire until it was roaring and snapping. Then he walked into the bathroom and cranked open one of the windows to get to the snow piled high on the roofline. He filled the kettle quickly, then placed it on the fire to boil, warming his icy hands in the process. 

Wanting to help, I moved to get out of bed.

“No, stay in bed, I’ve got it,” he said, firmly and with a smile. I rolled my eyes. 

“Fine, thank you,” I said. He added filters to our mugs from the day before then scooped a decent pile of fresh smelling coffee grounds into each. I watched the domestic scene unfolding before me with fresh eyes. 

Wasn’t it just yesterday that I walked into this room and imagined this very scenario? I had fantasized about Sunday mornings in this bed, warm coffee and warm bodies huddled close together. I would have never guessed that in less than 24 hours, I would experience the rare gift of reality being even better than the fantasy. 

Kristoff poured steaming water over our coffee mugs and I inhaled deeply as the room filled with a sweet and smoky aroma. He picked up a mug in each hand and turned toward the bed where he then froze. I let my earlier thoughts show clearly on my face and gave him a small, cheeky smile. If we were on the same page at all - which I would bet my last twenty bucks we were - he was having the same sort of reaction to seeing me in his bed as I was to him making coffee. 

It was the kind of moment that hinted at a new beginning; homey, warm, and safe, with an underlining of excitement and a promise of more to come. I suddenly saw us having this same routine (maybe minus the power outage) after long shifts and in every season. I kept eye contact with Kristoff as his eyes changed and faded to a far-off place. My bet was that he was having the same epiphany. 

He shook his head as if to clear it and we both snapped out of the moment. Kristoff continued to the bed, handing me a warm mug before sitting at my feet. I took a sip. The bitter, earthy coffee slid over my tongue and warmed my belly. I sighed, content. After a beat, I looked back outside.

“At least it looks like the storm broke last night,” I said. 

He turned his gaze toward the frosty windows, the bright sunshine filtering in. “Looks like it. Won’t know how bad the damage is until we get outside.”

I sighed and hugged my mug closer to my chest, wanting to hold on to the comfort of the moment. “And unfortunately, we are going to need more firewood no matter if we can get the generator running or not...so we can’t stay here,” I said. “In this warm, cozy, perfect bed.”

“No,” he said quietly, “I suppose we can’t.” Neither of us moved. 

I glanced up at Kristoff to find him watching me. He took a strong gulp of his coffee and I watched his throat as he swallowed. I wanted to kiss him again. 

I wanted to do a lot more than kiss him. 

Instead, I threw the covers off and clambered out of bed, careful not to spill my coffee. If I stayed in bed with him one second longer, we weren’t getting out of it all day and then we’d freeze and die. 

_ What a way to go though. _

I shook myself out of it and placed my coffee cup on his nightstand. As soon as the warm mug left my hand, I shivered. It really was freezing despite the fire. I walked to the fireplace and reached for my clothes where they were now thankfully dry and began pulling layers on underneath my nightshirt. 

I heard Kristoff move to his dresser and the squeak of a drawer being pulled open. I kept my back to him as I took off his nightshirt. The cold air passed over my skin; I broke out in goosebumps and my nipples tightened at the exposure. I shivered once again but not solely from the cold. I was fully dressed within a few minutes but not much warmer. I needed my coat, which was downstairs. 

“Here, wrap yourself up in this, it’ll help,” Kristoff said, tossing me a flannel shirt from his dresser. He was already dressed in a silk base layer, the thin fabric stretching across his muscles and defining his edges sharply. Somehow, the thin black shirt made him look sexier than his bare skin did a minute ago and I had to glance away. 

I pulled his shirt on overtop of my clothing. The flannel was soft to the touch yet thick and sturdy. The shirt covered my thighs and would provide extra warmth to my legs. I subtly lifted the collar to my nose and took a sniff. Fresh laundry detergent that smelled slightly of pine tickled my nose. 

Kristoff had gotten dressed quickly and quietly; he was leaning against the dresser, watching the ground, when I turned back around. He casually raked his eyes from my toes upwards, pausing to stare at his shirt draped over my body, before meeting my eyes with a saucy smile. Playing along, I winked at him. He threw his head back and laughed a hardy belly chuckle. 

“Come on, then, feistypants, we’ve got to seize the day,” he said. 

“Among other things,” I mumbled under my breath. My comment made Kristoff stop halfway through opening the bedroom door. The icy air of the cabin downstairs drifted into the room. 

I watched his shoulders shake with effort as he took a deep breath. His knuckles on the doorknob were white.

I laughed a little and squeezed past him through the crack in the door, out into the open hallway. 

“You’re not the only one who can make promises, you know,” I threw over my shoulder, shaking my hips as I walked away. 

I heard Kristoff grunt and slam the door shut behind him before he joined me in trekking down the stairs. It was my turn to laugh the entire way down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. I know that it has been awhile since I posted an update AND that this was a short chapter. I apologize for that. I wanted to give y'all *something*. I hope a first kiss was good for now.
> 
> I have been traveling for a few weeks and have also had some personal stuff going on, but I think I'll be able to focus on this again now. Thanks for sticking with me. I really appreciate all of the feedback, comments, reblogs on tumblr, and general shenanigans. Y'all are very, very awesome, and I love ya, I really do. 
> 
> Image inspiration for this chapter: http://modvinnie.tumblr.com/post/166613837046/frostbitten-image-inspiration-chapter-4


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We continue with Day 2 of the storm. Things will heat up by the end of this chapter. Warning for all: this is definitely Rated M from here on out.

“Do you have an emergency radio or CB?” I asked Kristoff. “I want to radio to the team now that the storm broke, check in on what’s happening at base. They don’t know that I made it somewhere safe. Olaf is probably losing his mind.”

“Sven, too,” Kristoff said. “We were cut off last night. I’ve got a battery-operated CB we can use to join the basecamp channel. Top shelf of the coat closet in a basket with other emergency supplies.”

Nodding, I moved to the coat closet. Upon opening the door, I noted again that yes, a giant definitely lived here. Even on my tip toes and stretching as far as I could, I couldn’t reach the top shelf. I tried hopping a few times but had no luck in reaching the basket.

Frustrated, I grumbled under my breath and looked in the closet for something to stand on. Then I felt a warm presence against my back.

“Need some help there, short stack?” Kristoff asked. I glared at him over my shoulder.

“Hmmmp,” I grumbled.

“Here, I’ve got you,” he said as he reached over my head. His front pressed against my back and I pushed back a little with my hips, enjoying the warmth and general feeling of being close to him.

He brought the basket down, holding it with one hand, and we stayed still for a moment. I leaned my head back against his chest and sighed. He kissed the top of my head before moving away to set the basket on the kitchen island.

Smiling, I began to unload it, searching for the radio. There was a first aid kit on top, along with two flashlights. The emergency CB and it’s backup batteries were at the bottom along with a pair of night vision goggles.

I held those up. “Seriously?” I asked, laughing. “What, are you preparing for an alien invasion or just another cold war?”

“Hey, it gets pitch black around here. If I hear something in the middle of the night, I can use those to see what it is without having to leave the house,” he defended himself. “There’s another pair on my nightstand,” he added, sheepishly.

“I didn’t realize you were a survivalist in training,” I teased.

“Well, I learned from the best, didn’t I?” he answered with a wink. I laughed.

I removed the CB and its battery-powered base and set it up on the stone countertop. I checked the connections before flipping the ON switch and tuning to the base’s channel.

“Arendelle Mountain Rescue Basecamp, come in. Repeat, Arendelle Mountain Rescue Basecamp, come in.”

Nothing. I looked to Kristoff. He was wearing the same serious expression I was.

“Arendelle Mountain Rescue Basecamp, this is Chief Feistypants, come in.”

We both waited, growing more concerned. There always had to be at least one person at camp to take incoming emergency calls. If the camp was empty, that meant that our other rangers were themselves in trouble or overloaded on rescues - neither of which were ideal situations.

Kristoff placed his large hand over my knuckles where I was gripping the countertop with force. “Anna-”

“Copy! Feistypants, this is Reindeer Games. 10-20?”

Kristoff and I both let out a sigh of relief at Sven’s voice. “I’m with Ice Master. We’re both safe and sound.”

A sigh of relief came through. “Thank Gods, Anna,” Sven said, breaking code. “Olaf found your Jeep but no sign of you. We were terrified." 

“I’m ok, Sven. We both are,” I said, squeezing Kristoff’s hand. Maybe a little more than ok. What they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them in this case. “How are things at base? Is everyone ok?”

“Yes. Everyone is accounted for. We ran only two rescues this morning, expect more to be coming in.”

“As soon as we can make our way to you, we’ll be there to help,” I said.

“Negative, Feistypants,” Sven responded. “There’s another squall coming through. This storm isn’t over yet.”

Alarmed, I looked at Kristoff. “T-Minus how many hours until the second wave?”

“Radar shows it moving in on the North Mountain now. Two hours until it hits camp,” Sven answered.

I continued to look at Kristoff, unsure how to calculate the distance from camp to his cabin. “We have to get a move on it,” he softly said.  

“10-4, Reindeer Games. What’s the extended forecast?”

“Stay where you are for _at least_ the next 24 hours,” Sven said. “We’ve got camp covered.”

I sighed, not ready to agree. They needed me - no, they needed _both_ of us back at camp. I couldn’t let my team down, not when others were stranded in the storm. I _needed_ to do my job.

Silently, Kristoff took the mic from my hand. “Roger, Reindeer Games. Feistypants and I will hold our positions for a minimum of 24 hours,” he said. I glared at him.

“Copy that. Stay safe. Basecamp, out,” Sven said before the secure channel went silent.

Kristoff hung up the mic and turned the unit off to preserve the battery. He noted the current time on his wristwatch before sighing. Finally, he turned to look at me.

“Anna,” he began, his voice serious, “You can’t save anybody if you’re dead.”

His matter-of-fact tone had all the air whooshing out of my squared shoulders. I deflated in front of him.

“I know you’re right, Kristoff,” I said, “but I hate this. They need me. I should be there. What if something goes wrong?” 

“Then Olaf and Sven will handle it. If they can’t, they’ll call in Elsa and Oaken. This is what you’ve trained us for, Anna. They know what to do.”

“I haven’t trained them for what might happen if both the alpha and beta are MIA! Olaf is still a rookie!” I yelled, exasperated.

“Well,” he said before taking a step toward me, “Maybe they should get used to it. Trial by fire. Because these two wolves might be going MIA a lot more often in the not too distant future if I have anything to say about it.”

He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me toward him. I smacked him in the chest.

“Kristoff, that’s not funny,” I said, my voice stern but my cheeks flushed. “This is serious.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said. “But you’ve got to calm down. You can’t leave this cabin and beating yourself up for that isn’t going to help anybody.”

He grabbed my face with his hands and forced me to look him in the eye. “Trust them, Anna. They’ve got this. We’ve got to keep _ourselves_ safe so we can get back to the team in one piece and _then_ help them. If another squall is coming through, then this storm isn’t over yet, and there are going to be plenty of people to help in the coming days,” he said, gently.

I sighed. I knew he was right. “I just don’t like being useless,” I whispered.

At this, Kristoff laughed. “I can fix that.”

He left the kitchen and walked to the front door, pulling our boots, coats, and gear from the hooks in the entryway. I followed, questioning.

“The firewood isn’t going to chop itself, Chief Feistypants,” he said as he pulled one boot on. “And we’re on a short timetable.”

I rolled my eyes at his use of my handle. It’s not like I gave it to myself.

“Show me the way, Ice Master,” I said as I pulled my own boots on. He snickered. We finished getting dressed - Kristoff in his snow suit again, me in borrowed gear that made me look like a child playing dress up - and then Kristoff pulled open the front door. 

Snow was piled two feet high. A gentle breeze blew a few stray snowflakes into the entryway. The sound of absolute silence greeted us. Kristoff let out a low whistle.  

“The calm before the storm,” I whispered.  

“Better get a move on it then,” Kristoff replied before launching himself into the snow. I followed, navigating using his much larger footsteps. He was taking smaller steps than usual to accommodate my leg length. I was going to need to rib him for that later.

I paused after a few steps to look around. The snow had come down hard and fast overnight and the sun was blinding as it reflected against the white landscape. The top layer of snow sheened where the sun had warmed it enough to melt. The wind was cold enough to quickly refreeze it into a slick and icy hardness. I heard the ice crack under Kristoff’s boots each time he took a step.  

I turned to look back at the cabin. From this angle, I could clearly see the peak of the roof, piled high with snow and the condensation forming on the windows from the roaring fire we left in the living room. The pines surrounding the house were coated in thick, fluffy snow. Drifts had already formed under some where the bows gave way under the weight of the snow.

It was truly beautiful. Serene, even.

“You coming, Anna?” Kristoff yelled. I turned back to him and hopped to it.

“Sorry,” I puffed out, panting a bit. “You have such a beautiful home, Kristoff,” I said, sincerely.

He stared at me for a moment before opening his mouth and letting a soft “I’m glad you like it,” out.

We kept walking for a bit, away from the house toward the garage and shed. Against the garage wall was a long and high pile of logs under a shiny blue snow-covered tarp, waiting to be chopped. Rows and rows of huge logs ran for about 50 feet.

“How long did it take you to make this pile?” I asked.

“From spring to fall, I work on stocking the wood. I’ll burn through this whole supply before winter’s over,” he said.

“Damn,” was my astounded response. I trudged to the shed while Kristoff was busy pulling large logs from the pile. It took a few tries, but I was able to clear enough snow to open the door a tiny crack and squeeze through it. The shed was clearly organized, clean, and dry. Ropes, pickaxes, and shovels along with other tools lined the walls. I carefully removed two of the axes before slipping back out of the shed and securing the door.

Kristoff had cleared snow from the chopping block and was carrying thick pieces of tree trunk from the pile to the block. One was ready to be chopped.

“Do you want to take the first swing or should I?” I asked Kristoff.

“Ladies first,” he grunted as he lifted a particularly huge log. “We’ll probably need to take turns so we don’t wear ourselves out too quickly anyways.” 

“Roger that,” I said. I set the extra axe on the top of a nearby log, out of Kristoff’s way, before clearing some snow around the block.

I rotated the axe in my hands, getting a feel for it. It was perfectly balanced, the wooden handle shiny with years of use. I inspected it further, noting that the same carvings that appeared in the banister inside the cabin were also here in the axe’s handle. I marveled at that for a moment before a chilly wind set my mind straight.

Planting my feet in the right position and steadying my shoulders, I exhaled. As I inhaled, I brought the axe up over my shoulder and on my following exhale, swung it down, hard, over the log. A sharp-sounding crack echoed over the landscape as the log split in two.

I picked up one half and readjusted it on the block before repeating the action, then again with the other half. I arranged the split wood in a neat pile and Kristoff placed another log on the block with a smile and a shake of his head.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” he said, before resuming his role with a smile.

We continued like that, me chopping while Kristoff supplied. My arms and shoulders were starting to ache with effort, and there was a knot forming in my lower back. I was drenched under my coat. But we had a good-sized pile growing and it was too early to quit.

“You want to switch for a bit?” Kristoff asked. No sooner did he get the words out before a loud and menacing rumble rolled over the snow-covered ground. We both turned toward the sound and gasped. The sky was black over the mountains. Thick, angry clouds were swirling in the distance and a flash of lightning lit up the sky.

“Fuck,” I whispered as Kristoff echoed a more colorful sentiment. I looked at him. “We have to hurry. Switch me,” I said.

Kristoff was already loading another log on the block. He was moving at a rapid pace, splitting logs with an intensity I wouldn’t have believed was real if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. I struggled to keep him supplied with wood. I could roll the giant logs but not lift them without effort; Kristoff was picking them up and placing them on the block like they were made of feathers.

Before long, I couldn’t tell if the cracks around me were Kristoff chopping logs at a brutal pace or the thunder rolling closer to us. Snowflakes had begun to swarm around us and the wind was picking up.

I left Kristoff to keep chopping while I ran to the garage as quickly as I could through the snow and wind. I looked around for a tarp or something to pile the wood on to get it inside the house. There was an extra snowmobile inside and room next to it for the one we rode last night. The inside of the garage was dark and I stumbled a bit without the sun’s help. I caught myself on a workbench and when I looked up, I saw a sled in the corner. I climbed over to it and grabbed it from its hooks on the wall, carrying it awkwardly over my head through the garage, trying to be careful not to bang it on anything. 

Once outside, I threw it on the ground and grabbed the ropes, pulling it behind me to where Kristoff was still chopping. I began grabbing the firewood and piling it on the sled as quickly as I could. When it was full with two layers, I tried pulling it and found that it was easier than I expected. I piled on more wood and soon Kristoff joined me.

“Smart thinking,” he said as he piled log after log.

“Thanks,” I breathed out. The temperature was quickly dropping and my lips were starting to ache. It was getting harder to talk which meant the air was cooler and we weren’t getting as much oxygen.

We finished packing the sled quickly, with the occasional glance to the sky. By the time the sled was full, it was snowing all around us and white out conditions were on the horizon.

As we both headed to the front of the sled, grabbing ropes and intending to haul it together, the air around us became sharp as a tack and quieted down to deathly silence. Kristoff and I looked to the horizon and saw the front moving through. No additional snowflakes, but an invisible force of arctic air freezing the tops of trees and solidifying everything in it’s path.

I had heard the legends but I had never witnessed a Snow Queen storm in person. Easily dismissed as the folktales of past rangers trying to scare new recruits, this kind of storm was rare to experience. Most didn’t live to tell the tale.

“We need to get inside, now,” I said, my voice shaking with adrenaline and fear. Kristoff didn’t respond for a moment, dazzled by the terrifying force of nature in front of us.  

“Kristoff!” I screamed. “We have to go, NOW!” I began pulling at the sled and the movement jarred him out of his stupor. With his help, the sled glided easily over the snow. We ran, careful not to tilt the fruits of our labor into the snow drifts, but tripping over snow and our own feet in our haste. We made it back to the front door. I kicked it open and turned to pull the sled in; Kristoff pushed the entire thing through the door into the living room entry and slammed the door shut behind him.

Outside, the windows frosted over completely and the wood along the doorjamb inside sparkled with frost. I grabbed three logs from the sled and ran to the fireplace, throwing them on top and using my gloved hand to rotate logs and catch them on fire. Kristoff was behind me in an instant, adding six more logs to the fire until it nearly reached the top of the opening. The fire was dying down; I felt the freezing air on my face from the chimney. I grabbed a poker and stirred the fire to keep it going until the new logs caught and roared.

The sudden heat was intense and Kristoff and I stepped back from the fireplace, both a little in shock. We were panting, chests heaving with effort to breath the warmer air. Perspiration beaded on our skin and our hair clung to our faces as the adrenaline swarmed through our bodies. My blood roared in my veins and my heartbeat pounded in my ears.

We shifted away from the fire to face each other. A moment passed, two. Then we collided.

I was swept off my feet by Kristoff’s strong arms as our mouths viciously attacked each other’s. Our teeth clanked together painfully as we kissed; I felt my lip split and tasted blood. Kristoff didn’t stop, sweeping his tongue over my lips and into my mouth.

The kiss was bruising, animalistic. It was nothing like the sweet and gentle first kiss we shared mere hours ago. 

I ripped Kristoff’s hat from his head and unwound his scarf from his neck so I could have access to it. Kristoff lifted me higher and I wrapped my legs around his waist while planting kisses against his throat and scraping my teeth down his jaw. I grabbed the zipper of his snow suit and pulled down roughly until it split and was trapped by my legs. Kristoff slipped my coat clear over my head, still zipped, while balancing my weight on one beefy palm under my backside. He walked us backwards until my back hit the frosty wall of windows. The icy glass felt incredible against my overheated skin and I shivered with pleasure.

Kristoff lifted my legs then, higher on his waist, as he pulled his snowsuit down over his hips where it fell to his feet. He toed out of his boots and stumbled a bit; I pulled him into me against the wall and I felt his arms catch on either side. He was supporting my weight entirely between his body and the wall. I squeezed my legs tight around him and kissed him, hard.

He responded in kind, moving one hand to hold me to him by the back of my neck. We kissed until neither of us could breath and had to break apart, and even then, Kristoff didn’t stop undressing me. He reached behind him with one hand and slowly slid one of my legs down over his hip until he could reach my boot and pull it off. Then he repeated the action on the other side, dropping my boots on the floor before pulling me away from the wall and stepping over the pile of gear. He walked us toward the staircase, eyes not leaving my own, his intentions clear.

At the first step, he paused to kiss me hungrily again. “My promise starts now, Anna,” he said before carrying us up the stairs and to his room.

Being trapped inside a cabin for the next 24 hours was beginning to look _very_ promising.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this makes up for the shorter chapter I posted yesterday! :-) 
> 
> Thank you all for your incredibly kind comments and thoughts, especially regarding my personal situation. As it turns out, I felt a little inspired after all of that, and here we are. So thank YOU. Happy reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kristoff and Anna find their souls in whiteout conditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers - please note that this chapter is MOST DEFINITELY RATED MATURE. I have tried to keep the content more tasteful than explicit but it is Rated M for sexual relations. Also, swear words and some naughty dialogue. Just a head's up.

The warm, stuffy air of Kristoff’s bedroom washed over my back as he pushed us through the door. The room had darkened considerably with the raging storm; the fire burned low and cast a soft, warm glow over the bed and our shadows danced on the walls.

I heard the soft, distinct sound of his door clicking shut behind us over the blood rushing through my ears. I broke away from kissing him to touch his face gently, stroking his cheek, his jaw. I needed to take a deep breath. He paused and held us still for a moment, looking deeply into my eyes and smiling. I couldn’t believe that this was finally happening. I didn’t expect any of this when I left camp yesterday - not to be caught in an unexpected, severe storm; having to be “rescued” by Kristoff, of all people; the power outage; or the deadly wind chill outside.

Most of all, I didn’t expect to find myself in a gorgeous cabin with a gorgeous man who was quickly stealing my heart and my ability to breathe normally.

Kristoff took a few steps and gently laid me on the bed, my body spread out and sinking into the plush and cozy flannel. I scooted back until my head hit the pillows, my hair fanning out around me. I looked up at Kristoff, still standing at the foot of the bed watching me, and hoped that my desire for him was clear. He stared for another minute, whiskey eyes tracing me from head to toe, then he climbed on the bed and crawled over to me. He placed a knee on either side of my legs then bent over my frame, hands braced against the soft mattress. He stayed that way, hovering over me, our bodies not touching.

“Anna,” he whispered, soft and sweet, and reached out to graze the side of my face. I let my hands wander up his arms, pausing to squeeze the hard muscles there. I traced my fingertips across his shoulders and chest and paused when I reached his collar.

I took a deep breath and slowly began unbuttoning Kristoff’s shirt. He let out a sigh and hung his head, breathing deeply and watching my hands as they worked their way down his torso.

I undid the last button and the shirt hung loosely from his frame, brushing against my chest and stomach. Kristoff leaned back on his knees and slowly slid the shirt across his shoulders and down his arms, freeing his hands, before dropping it quietly on the floor next to the bed. Then he reached down and grabbed the hem of his silk underlayer and pointedly pulled it up over his head. My heart pounded harder with each inch of pale skin he exposed.

My eyes traced the bandages on his side, hoping that our earlier hard labor didn’t hurt him or tear his wound open. I thought back to yesterday, remembering his pale face, grimacing in pain as he charged through the door. My heart had dropped into my stomach when I realized that he was injured. I hadn’t processed how very scared I was for him until now. Gently, I traced the bandage with my fingertips. Kristoff’s stomach rippled under my light touch.

I continued to marvel at his body, so huge compared to my own. I should have maybe been frightened of his sheer size, but when I looked at Kristoff, I saw comfort and safety. Years of hard labor and living in the wild had served him well. He was born to be a protector. I trusted him with my life; I trusted him with my heart.

Overwhelmed by my feelings for him, my eyes began to mist, and I quickly blinked the beginnings of tears away. Kristoff noticed anyways. His thumb came up to trace under my left eye, seeking confirmation of the moisture he expected to find there. Concern flashed across his face.

“Anna, we don’t have-”

“I’m fucking falling in love with you,” I blurted out, cutting him off.

His stunned face froze in shock as he processed my words. His lips curled in a slow and tentative smile, eyes wide, a million emotions playing out on his face as he shook his head. Then he closed his eyes and became as still as ice above me. 

The moment ticked on, heavily, as the weight of my words sunk in.

Slowly, Kristoff’s face transformed as he got a handle on his emotions. He let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized he was holding; his chest shook greatly with the effort. Then he deliberately opened his eyes, seeking and searching mine.

Gaze steady, he leaned over me. His forearms rested against the mattress, supporting most of his substantial weight. He allowed our bodies to connect. I felt the heat of his skin through my clothing, the bulk of his strength surrounding me, pushing me into the feathers at my back. I gasped as I felt him fully against me and he stopped at the sound, face hovering over my own.

Kristoff’s own eyes were wet with unshed tears and a searing intensity that I felt in my core. The deep brown of his irises glowed and burned against long black eyelashes. I lost myself to the depth there, drowning in honey, in him.

“Anna,” he breathed, voice shaky but firm in conviction, “I didn’t know what love truly was until I knew you. You’ve changed me, kid. Good God, do I love you, too.”

The tears flowed down my face at his words, unbidden. My heart seized in my chest. My head spun.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered, the nickname rolling off his tongue casually. I gasped deeply for air and shivered with pleasure at his tone.

“Kristoff…”

He answered my plea by crashing his lips to mine, nearly crushing me underneath his weight. His mouth was hot and needy as his lips sucked and pulled at my own. His beard scratched against my face, burning my skin, but I didn’t care. I nipped at his bottom lip with my teeth and he growled from above me; I felt my nipples tighten as the vibration from his chest reverberated through me. I decided suddenly that I was wearing _way_ too many layers.

Kristoff had the same idea.

He rolled us in one swift motion so that he was flat against his back on the bed and I was sprawled on top of him, our legs tangled together. One hand came up to brush the hair from my face and hold my head to him as his tongue entered my mouth; the other pushed against my lower back until I ground myself down on him with no space between us. He splayed his fingers against my backside and firmly held me there. I felt the hard length of him against my belly.

I feverishly kissed Kristoff back and moved my mouth down his neck, sucking against the skin in the hollow where his shoulder and neck met, my nails raking down his chest. I wiggled my backside to get him to release his hold on me then shifted my hips until I was straddling him properly. He groaned deep in his throat at the contact.

I leaned back as I reached for the waistband of his pants and began unbuckling his belt. I unfastened it and was reaching for the zipper when his hand covered mine, stopping me.

“You’re still wearing too many fucking layers, Anna,” he said. “Time to even up.”   
  
He bunched the long flannel shirt I was wearing in his hands until he could grab the hem of my sweater and undershirt and then ripped all three over my head. I had just enough time to raise my arms before the fabric swooshed past my face. Kristoff’s mouth was on the exposed skin without missing a beat, his tongue tracing the valley between my breasts, large hands settled at my waist. Within seconds, my bra joined our growing pile of clothing on the floor. I cradled his head as he worked his tongue and teeth against me and ran my fingers through his hair while rocking my hips down against his.

He leaned me back, shifting us again until my head was hanging from the foot of the bed, my hair cascading over the side. The heat of the fire washed over my face.

Kristoff worked his way down my body, kissing along my stomach. He made quick work of the zipper on my jeans and pulled my pants open, mouth advancing on the exposed skin of my hips. Then he hooked his thumbs through the waistband of my pants and rocked back on his knees, lifting me as he pulled the jeans further down my body. He took a foot in each hand and slid the small opening down my ankles until the fabric could be drug from my legs along with my socks.

Then Kristoff made eye contact as he leaned forward and slid his thumbs under my underwear at my hips. He paused there, waiting, asking a silent question with his eyes.

I nodded, planted my feet in the downy mattress, and lifted my hips to him. He slid my underwear from my body and then I was exposed to him fully.

His eyes roamed from my toes up the bare skin of my legs. His gaze lingered for a moment at the juncture of my thighs and I felt a blush spread down my chest at the intense look of wanting on his face. He sensed it; his eyes followed the blush to my face, where he locked his gaze with mine.

Then he boldly reached for the fly of his pants and undid the zipper. My breath caught in my throat and I swallowed hard. Kristoff gripped the remaining layers of clothing and pushed them down together, exposing himself to me inch by inch. My mouth went dry and my eyes widened at the sight of him. I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to regulate my breathing while clenching my thighs together, seeking relief from the tension building there.

The bed shifted and then Kristoff’s skin was against mine again. “You know,” he whispered against my neck, “a guy could get used to a reaction like that. Does wonders for the male ego.” He chuckled softly in my ear and pressed a warm kiss to my neck.

I flushed, embarrassed, but also unashamed. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, Kristoff,” I mumbled. I turned my head and found his lips with mine. I gave him a brief kiss, then muttered into his lips, “I’ll never get used to seeing you like _this_.”

He pulled back so he could more clearly see my face. He stared at me thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “I want you here with me, Anna. I want to see you like this, stretched out on my bed, wanting and shaking with desire, again and again.”

He kissed my lips gently. “I’ve thought about this moment too many times,” he added.

“How long have you been thinking about this, us?” I asked.

He looked me in the eye. “Years.”

I inhaled sharply through my teeth, surprised that Kristoff had held and hid these feelings for me so for long, while I only just now figured it out for myself.

“I don’t want you to think that what’s happening here is just because of the storm or cabin fever,” he said. “I’ve wanted you for a long time. I’ll always want you, Anna.”

I stroked his beard with my fingers and traced the outline of his lips with my thumb. Then I gave him the sweetest kiss I could muster, eyes open and full of promise. I put everything I couldn’t find the words to say into the kiss, showing him that I wanted this, with him, for more than one night. I wanted a life with Kristoff. I wanted him for forever.

When I pulled back, he was gazing at me with an expression of such adoration, my head spun with happiness.

Hand still on his face, I whispered to him, “Then have me, Kristoff. Because I’m yours.”

At my words, his eyes turned from a golden ember to smoky black and his grip at my waist tightened, fingers digging into my skin. I came alive under his touch, the throbbing between my legs intensifying.

I pulled his face down to mine and attacked his mouth. He met me kiss for kiss, teeth nipping, tongues brushing against each other. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth as he shifted above me, taking both of my wrists in one very large hand and holding it above my head, hanging in midair beyond the bed. The movement brought the weight of his chest down against mine. Though he was heavy, I didn’t care. I wanted to feel his weight, needed him even closer. I pushed my chest up into his and whimpered as his chest hair brushed against the tips of my breasts. He understood my desire for more and with his free hand, firmly caressed me, lightly pinching and rolling my small breasts in his large hand. I sighed into his mouth and kissed him hungrily.

After a moment, Kristoff’s mouth left my own to wander down my neck. He was bruising in his ministrations, lapping at me with his tongue and sucking my skin almost painfully with his lips. When his teeth bit into my neck, I felt it deep in my belly, and I moaned, loudly, thrashing underneath him with want.

He suddenly stopped his brutal kisses and leaned his head against mine, panting into my ear.

“Please,” I begged, my voice breathy and uneven, “don’t fucking stop, Kristoff. That’s an order.”

He brought my hands back from over my head, placing them on his shoulders, before sliding both of his hands down around my waist and holding me there, gently. I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling gently and he grunted into my ear. His fingers caressed the skin of my belly and down, though not where I wanted to be touched the most. The gentle touch was shocking compared to the passionate and rough contact we had mere seconds ago.

“Not the first time,” he mumbled into my neck with a soft kiss at my ear. I wasn’t sure which one of us he was talking to or what he meant.

I pulled his hair until he was forced to look at me, though he avoided my eyes. “What?” I asked. My voice came out deeper than usual, raspy with desire. I could still feel his teeth on me, my neck throbbing where he marked me as his.

At my tone, his eyes snapped to mine. I gasped in pleasure; his eyes were molten, pure sex. I shivered underneath him.

“I promised myself that I’d make love to you _before_ I fuck you, Anna,” he said. I felt his words between my legs and my whole body clenched in response. I was very, very close to the edge and he hadn’t even touched me properly yet.

“Why?” I gasped out. “I need you to fucking touch me,” I begged, impatient.

He chuckled warmly and caressed my face. “Because I want to take my time,” he said, his hand drifting down my body, closer to where I needed him.

“Because I want to memorize you like this, underneath me, panting with want, begging me to touch you,” he said as his fingertips grazed me. “Because I want to taste and touch and love every square inch of you, Anna.” He slipped a finger inside me as he finished his sentence and I came apart beneath him.

“Good God,” he muttered, his mouth slowly making its way down my neck and shoulders, across my tender breasts. My chest heaved and my limbs felt heavy as I rode it out, unable to speak. He didn’t stop his movements. His hand still pleasured me and I ground down against it, seeking more and unable to voice it. Reading me as always, Kristoff kept kissing down my body until his mouth joined his hand. I groaned at the way his beard felt, scratching against the tender skin of my inner thighs. The burning of his beard and the pressure of his tongue was unlike anything I had ever felt. It wasn’t long before my hands were tangled in his hair and I was losing control of myself again as he worked his tongue against me.

It still wasn’t enough. I needed to feel _him_.

“Kristoff,” I whispered. “Kristoff, please. I need you to make love to me. Now.”

He kissed his way back up my body, his hands following in the most delicate caress up my sides. He held my face in his hands and kissed me, hard, though not as bruising as before. I tasted myself on his tongue. He was both sweet and wild, tender and rugged. Everything about him was driving me wild.

I reached down between us, searching for him. When I grasped the length of him in my hand, he broke the kiss and let out a strangled groan. With his forehead resting against mine and most of his weight supported by his arms, I gently guided him between my legs. Before our bodies connected, I let him go and reached up to stroke his beard.

“I love you, Kristoff,” I said sincerely and matter of factly, my voice clear and unwavering. I needed him to know that it wasn’t just cabin fever for me, either.

He pushed his hips slightly forward until I could feel him just at my entrance; there he paused and leaned in until his lips were touching mine.

“I love you,” he whispered, then pushed with his hips and entered me fully with one thrust. I felt his body shake with effort as he then held as still as possible, enabling me to get accustomed to his size. He stroked my hair and my breast with his hands while whispering that he loved me over and over again. I could feel him stretching me in every direction; I thought I might crack and yet it still wasn’t enough. I shifted my hips, gently moving myself under him as he watched my face with concerned eyes. The movement made me shudder.

“Baby?” he asked, voice full of concern. I rocked my hips again, faster this time. Oh. Oh _h._ There it was. I let my head fall back with a sigh. Then I repeated the action.

“Fuck, Kristoff,” I moaned. “Move. Please move.”

“Yes, boss,” he whispered, and I smacked him, hard. He responded by shifting his hips and grinding against me. I let loose a long string of profanities, which only spurred him on. He sped up his motions and allowed his weight to settle on me. He cradled me with his body, covering me completely, his chest pressed against my own. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he moved only his hips and I held on tightly to his broad back.

He kissed me as he rocked into me. His beard burned my face. His kisses were messy and distracted, sloppy and sexy. They made my toes curl and my heart warm.

The warmth also was quickly spreading through me. I moaned his name and he pressed harder and faster into me. Through his lovemaking, he never lost focus on me, whispering naughty thoughts in my ear and telling me he loved me repeatedly.

“That’s it, baby,” he panted into my neck as I tightened around him. “Gods, Anna, you feel incredible. I love you, baby. I’ll love you forever. Never get enough of you.”

I lost myself at his words and with his movements. Kristoff surrounded me and invaded my every sense. I could still taste myself from his kisses, along with the salty flavor of sweat. With each gasp, I inhaled the charred air, smoky and earthy from the fire burning low. The soft flannel at my back grazed my skin and felt like home. I heard our combined heavy breathing and deep moans, Kristoff’s sweet words, the wind howling outside as ice pelted the windows. But most of all, I felt _him,_ his strong body covering every inch of mine, his skin sliding against my own as he moved us like we had been making practiced love for years. I knew, deep in my soul, that this was where I belonged. That I would _never_ get enough of him.

“Kristoff,” I whispered his name, a prayer, a breath. A promise.

His arms shook with effort as he slowly lost control. He answered my plea with his own prayer, my name falling sweetly from his lips, and my body clenched around him, hard. He let out a feral yell as he chased his own release. I felt his warmth spread through me as my body continued to squeeze him, claiming him. He all but collapsed on top of me, spent and groaning, his body shuddering and spasming while still inside me. He had the mind to tuck his hands under me and roll us until I was collapsed on top of his sweaty chest, my hair spread around him in damp waves, his arms wrapped loosely around me, holding me gently to him. I reached for the edge of the quilt and pulled it up and over us, tucking us in.

With Kristoff still inside me, rough hands wrapped around my back protectively, and the warmth and safety of the fire and flannel, it wasn’t long before I drifted off in a deep and easy slumber, a spent smile on my face.

Outside, the storm raged on, kissing the world with burning frostbite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...well...thoughts? It's been coming for a few chapters now. I hope I did it justice. I have a little more written for this story and am trying to decide if I want to post as another chapter, simply a smutty outtake, or expand into an epilogue. Also, the holidays are coming up so I'll probably be in the spirit for more cabin fever, lol. I wanted to give this a bit of closure regardless as I know that this is what most of you have been waiting/reading this fic for. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for sticking with me.


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